


The Happiest Days of Our Lives

by cvsossong



Series: The Happiest Days of Our Lives [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (don't worry it gets resolved), Alternate Universe, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, He just needs a little push, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Kid Peter Parker, M/M, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve is a great dad, Superfamily, Superhusbands, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-08 08:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1934463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cvsossong/pseuds/cvsossong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve came out of the ice and was immediately thrown into a war. As if that weren't bad enough, his fiancée is killed and their son is left alone. Faced with a desperate situation, Steve makes an impossible choice that he hopes is for the best. But when tragedy strikes, Steve steps up to take care of his son. Luckily, he's got some friends to help him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Post War Dream

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://halfway-punk-rock.tumblr.com/)

Steve came out of the ice and was immediately thrown into a war.

The funny thing was, Steve hated violence. Hated it. Back in the neighborhood, kids would start block fights against other immigrant groups almost every day. Irish against Italian, Irish against English, Italian against German, German against…well, everyone. On and on and on. Steve hated those fights. Once a kid called Bucky a “Paddy” and Bucky had beaten him with a rock. Some other kid had called Steve a “pansy”. Bucky’d done even worse to him.

Of course, people had called him worse. Steve didn’t really know where he stood sexually—he hadn’t exactly raked in the dates—but he was pretty sure he was into dames. But people saw him, all skinny and short and alone, and thought something was wrong with him.

Steve had joined the army not because he liked fighting, but because he hated bullies. He heard what Hitler was doing to all the European countries, what he was doing to all those innocent people, and it made him sick. And then the Japs bombed Pearl Harbor and that was it. Steve was itching to join the fray. Problem was, no one wanted him for the army. No one wanted him for anything. Until Erskine. Erskine had seen something in him, Steve didn’t know what. He never got the chance to ask, either. 

Not two hours after he’d had the serum injected in him, Erskine was dead and he was being carted off to the monkey show. The Colonel still hadn’t wanted him for the army—told him he “wasn’t enough”, and Steve knew that, but he couldn’t just sit around when Erskine had given him a gift. So he’d packed his bags and sold some bonds, straight up until he heard about the 107th. And then it was finally ( _finally_ ) behind enemy lines, where he could be useful.

He did good, in the war. He didn’t like all the killing, but he liked knowing he was serving his country. And then Bucky died, and he felt cold. He felt like he had back in the neighborhood. Empty. Defenseless. Only now, he was too small for his new skin and he lumbered around and felt like he couldn’t fit anywhere. And then he’d gone in the ice and found out he’d fit there just fine. Too fine. And that hurt more than anything.

They pulled him out and slapped him on the back and said it was 70 years later and that was that. He wanted to serve his country again, but Fury said that they needed Captain America, not just everyday soldiers, so he’d put on the uniform and jumped headfirst into battle and figured he’d either die in Manhattan or he’d figure out the future afterwards.

Except this team was new and different and Steve didn’t know how to lead them. They were a rag tag team, like the Commandos, but there was Natasha with her red hair and red smile and cold ways, and Clint with his snarky mouth who still felt guilty about being controlled by Loki, and Thor was more out of touch with this world than Steve was, and Dr. Banner was a green monster and wasn’t that a shock, and Tony Stark was all smiles and witty lines and easy hand movements, and Steve had thought he’d be just like his father but in the end he had made the sacrifice play. And Steve didn’t know what to think about that.

He didn’t know what to think about anything.

So he hopped on his bike and saw a few tourist sites, and drove around until he ran out of gas and shuddered at gas prices and vowed he’d never do that again. He ended up in Washington DC, which was all fancy towers and glass buildings and everywhere you looked there was crime. Steve loved it.

And then they called him in and sent him right back to war. “Afghanistan” they called it. “Desert Storm” or something like that. Apparently Fury was wrong—they did need everyday soldiers. And Captain America might not be right for that war, but Captain Steve Rogers damn sure was.

The new planes were quieter and faster. Steve felt like his stomach was coming out of his shoes by the end. And the desert was hot and there was sand  _everywhere_. He’d never seen anything like it before. He hated it immediately.

This war, it wasn’t about defending America. Not really. They’d shown him the clips from 9/11 and he’d puked up his guts and thought, “I want to defend my country from that”. But that had been years ago and the some of the other boys in the desert told him that they weren’t even in the right country to be defending that. They were somewhere else, in another desert, fighting for "democracy". One boy pulled him aside and whispered that they were really fighting for oil rights. Another spat on the ground and said they were fighting because some guy called Bush was a “grade- A asshole”. Steve felt sick again.

Every once in a while Fury would call him back from duty to fight Hydra agents or this new operation called AIM. He’d stay in the States for as long as they needed him, and then ship right back out to the Middle East. It sort of fell into a routine after a while.

And then he met Sharon. She was a SHIELD agent he met once while back in DC. She’d come on to him and, well, he wasn’t unwilling. They’d started something, something Steve had never had before. Sure, it was strange that she was Peggy’s niece, but he hadn’t known at first. And besides, it wasn’t like he and Peggy had ever had anything besides one kiss.

He and Sharon were together for six months before he got a call in the middle of the night from her. She said she was pregnant and it was his baby. He’d immediately asked her to marry him. She said no.

He asked again every week. Steve wanted to do right by her, and even though thinking about having a family that he could put in harm’s way made something awful clench up inside him, he was determined to make things right.

Sharon said yes after six weeks of asking. Steve wasn’t sure what changed her mind, but he asked like he always did and this time she just sighed and said, “Alright, Steve. If you’re sure.” He wasn’t, but that wasn’t important. He wasn’t going to let this kid grow up fatherless like he did.

He’d see her every time he came back to DC. He watched her stomach grow and felt detached from the child inside of it. As the weeks and months passed and he felt nothing for the baby, he became afraid that he’d never feel anything. That he’d always look at the child and feel an empty nothingness.

Sometimes they talked about names. Neither of them wanted to know the gender before the baby was born, so they made a list of girl names and a list of boy names whenever they spoke on the phone. Sharon suggested Peggy. Steve suggested Sarah. Sharon suggested Bucky. Steve had hung up on her, then called back an hour later, apologizing and explaining that he couldn’t handle that. She suggested Joseph instead.

On and on it went, until they’d narrowed it down to Sarah or Harrison. Until, after three weeks of silence from Sharon, Steve finally managed to contact SHIELD, where he was pleasantly informed that Sharon had been killed in the field by Hydra agents and, no, they had no idea what happened to the child and they hoped he had a good day.

Steve was crushed at the loss of Sharon. He’d really loved her, even if the marriage felt forced. He added her to the list of loved ones he couldn’t save and mourned her loss. But the baby… he felt detached, like maybe if he’d just seen the child he could have mourned it. As it was, all he felt was empty.

\--------------------

Steve opened the door to his apartment and dropped his bags with a sigh. “Sharon, I’m—” He stopped. That was wrong, the apartment was empty. He sighed again and collapsed on the couch.

There were voicemails on his phone machine, so he clicked the button and leaned back. A few were from the other Avengers (three from Clint, who loved to call Steve and talk about his latest mission even when he knew Steve was gone). One from the SHIELD doctors who wanted to run more tests on Steve’s blood. And one from some woman named Carol who insisted he come visit her as soon as he returned home. She left her address, but didn’t say why he had to see her. Just that it was important.  _No time like the present_ , Steve thought. He stood and stretched his back before grabbing his keys and heading back out the door.

By the time he arrived it was dusk and growing colder. He shrugged on a jacket and knocked impatiently on the door to the small brick house. What exactly did this woman want with him? He vaguely remembered that Sharon had a friend named Carol, and that they were close, but he’d never actually met her.

The door opened and a petite blonde woman glared up at him from behind the screen. “Where exactly have you been?” she demanded. “I left you that message weeks ago.”

“I was over in the East,” Steve replied, a little offended. So much for supporting the troops.

“I’d have thought they’d send you back early, considering what’s happened.” She opened the screen door and gestured inside. “So you’re the guy Sharon wouldn’t shut up about, huh?”

“I… I guess.” Steve looked around the living room. “You were her friend, right?”

“Wait here.” She turned curtly and went upstairs, leaving Steve alone.

“I’ll just… wait here.” He sat on the couch and tapped his fingers awkwardly. He still had no idea why he was here, he’d never even met this woman before now and she was treating him like some sort of criminal. He hadn’t even done anything wrong.

“Here.” She plopped a basket in front of him and collapsed in the chair across the table. “She… she made sure he was taken care of.”

“Who?” Steve asked, leaning forward to pull the blanket off.

It was a baby. A small, sleeping baby with dark brown curls and a dimple on its cheek.

“This is…”

“Sharon was killed by Hydra agents. They stabbed her in the back. Nearly killed the baby, too. If she hadn’t had an emergency surgery they both would have died. But she wanted to make sure he lived. It’s a boy, by the way.”

“I… I don’t…” Steve stared at the baby and felt a surge of panic rising in his throat. He swallowed it down and shook his head. He could handle this. He’d handled everything else. “Is this why you called me?”

“It’s your son. What, did you think I was gonna raise him in secrecy away from you?” Carol scoffed. “I don’t have any parental rights; only reason I took him was because Sharon made me promise to take care of him until you showed up.”

“I… can’t take care of a kid. Not on my own.”

Carol seemed to soften a bit, like she was sympathetic. “Sure you can. Get out of the fucking Army—they’re a bunch of government assassins anyways—figure your shit out, and raise your kid.” Carol crossed her legs. “Or send him to a foster home, if you’re gonna cry about it. But I can’t keep taking care of him, I don’t have any rights and there’s no chance in hell I'm eligible for adoption. His bag’s by the stairs, you’re gonna have to buy some new stuff though. She didn’t name him. I’ve been calling him ‘Wonder Boy’ but I don’t think he’ll want that for the rest of his life.”

“She mentioned Harrison if it was a boy—”

“Harrison’s her father’s name and he was an asshole. Sharon’s not here anymore, so name him whatever you want.” Carol stood up and gestured to the door. “Now, you’ll probably want to get him home soon.” She clapped his shoulder. “And good luck.”

Steve nodded and stood, lifting the basket by its handles. “Thank you for taking care of him,” he stammered out. Before she could make a remark, he hightailed it out of the house, grabbing the black bag by the stairs on the way out.

This was a real problem. He put the basket in the passenger seat and sat behind the wheel, head in his hands. “This is a disaster,” he whispered to himself before backing out of the driveway and heading for his apartment.

It was freezing by the time they arrived. Steve tucked the blanket tighter around the still- sleeping baby and managed to make it upstairs without encountering anyone. Inside, he put the basket on the couch and collapsed next to it and closed his eyes again. Maybe this was some kind of terrible nightmare that he was having and he’d wake up anytime now.

Steve wasn’t meant to be a father. He’d given up that notion a long time ago, even before the serum. Women weren’t supposed to want a family with him. He had been puny and weak back then, and once he’d had the serum he was too busy fighting evil in the world to focus on anything else.

The baby opened his eyes and yawned with a little squeak. He was sort of cute, really, but seeing him wake up made Steve feel even worse. He didn’t know the first thing about taking care of a kid.

“I… I guess you should eat or something, huh?” he asked the baby awkwardly. The baby gave him a gummy smile and chewed on his knuckles. “What do babies even eat?” Steve muttered to himself. He shuffled through the bag Carol had given him and came up with a bottle and some white powder. There was a note on it:  _Mix with water. Put bottle in bowl of hot water to warm. Let cool._  So he put some water on the stove to heat and mixed the formula together.

When it was ready, he managed to feed the baby without having to take him out of the basket, because the thought of holding him was making Steve’s stomach clench again. He fell asleep pretty quickly again after that, leaving Steve alone to his thoughts.

Carol was right, he could leave the Army. Even leave SHIELD if he wanted to, he had enough back pay after being lodged in ice for 70 years. But Steve didn’t  _want_  to. He wanted to keep helping, wanted to keep defending his country. He didn’t know how to take care of a kid. He hadn’t even really wanted one. He thought about foster homes, but abandoning his kid to the system seemed pretty shitty, too. Steve rubbed his temples. This was a disaster.

\--------------------

Steve jerked awake in the early hours of morning, gasping for breath. He glanced over on the other side of the couch and saw the basket with the baby still sleeping inside. Hadn’t been a dream, then.

Not knowing what else to do, Steve got up and went to the kitchen. He made some coffee and ate a banana and tried his hardest to love the squirming lump inside that damn basket. He thought warm thoughts and tried to remember his mother for the next few hours. Nothing worked. It was like he was looking at someone else’s kid.

Finally, he got a phonebook and called an adoption agency. “I… I have a child that I don’t have the means to take care of. How… can you find someone to care for him?”

It took a few hours, but he managed to register the baby. They said they would be by that afternoon to pick him up, and at 3 pm sharp a curt blonde woman knocked on the door with an armload of papers and bustled back out with the basket and a promise to keep him updated if they found a family. And that was it.

Over the next few months, Steve threw himself into work. He was officially discharged from the army once SHIELD found a whole hive of Hydra agents infiltrating their bases, and he and Natasha went on an old- fashioned Hydra hunting mission with a new guy they’d met, Sam Wilson. They found Bucky posed as the Winter Soldier, and it tore at Steve’s gut until he couldn’t breathe because he saw Bucky’s dark, tangled hair and thought of the gentle curls on a baby’s head.

They strapped Bucky down and managed to bring him back again, and when he heard what he’d done he tried to kill himself. So Steve focused on that, on bringing his friend back to him whole. And when that was done, he focused on hunting down the remaining Hydra agents. At one point he got a call telling him that the baby had been put in a home in Queens with a May and Ben Parker who were thrilled to take care of the baby. He thanked the agency and threw himself back into the fray, reminding himself that he didn’t deserve the surge of longing that ran through him.

\--------------------

_“…in other news, three people were shot today in a convenience store robbery in downtown Manhattan…”_

“Every time I turn around there’s some shooting or fire or gas prices rising. This century’s a real shit hole.” Bucky collapsed on the sofa and passed a beer to Steve. Neither of them could get drunk, but someone had given them a whole case and Steve wasn’t one to waste.

“Our century was pretty shitty, too. Remember all the polio?” Steve grinned and took a sip.

“And boiled food.” Bucky shuddered. “What else is on?”

“Wait just a minute. The news is almost over. I think the Dodgers are playing tonight, afterwards.”

“Fucking sucks that they moved to LA. Real travesty if you ask me.”

_“And in a breaking news story, a deadly house fire in Queens just moments ago has left two confirmed dead. May and Ben Parker, two residents of the central Queens neighborhood Forest Hills—”_

Steve froze. He knew those names, knew that neighborhood. He turned the volume up and tried not to panic.

_“—investigators are unsure what caused the fire that took two lives. Their son, eighteen month old Peter, is still unaccounted for—”_

“Steve? Christ, you look pale. What’s up?” Bucky leaned forward and shook his arm. Steve didn’t hear him; or maybe it just didn’t register over the roaring in his ears.

“I have to go,” he heard himself say.

When Steve finally got a hold of himself, he was in Queens, in front of the Parker household. Or what was left of it, anyways. Firefighters were still taking care of stray ashes that could reignite, and an ambulance was parked outside on the street. He headed for the closest officer he could find.

“Excuse me, have you… have you found the boy? The Parker boy?” he asked urgently.

“You a relative?” the officer asked.

“I’m... I’m the boy’s father. His biological one.”

The officer pointed to the ambulance. “Found him in a closet, crying for help. Miracle that the firefighters got to him in time. He’s got some bad smoke inhalation damage, but otherwise he’s fine. Scared shitless, though. Hasn’t said a word.”

“Thanks.” Steve walked towards the medical officers huddled around the back of the ambulance.

“Hey, hey, this is a crime scene. You can’t be here,” one of the EMTs waved him back. Steve took out his SHIELD badge.

“The boy. He’s my biological son. I… I just want to make sure he’s okay.” The EMT inspected the badge and finally nodded.

“But make it quick. He’s gotta go to the hospital.”

Steve peeked around the door and found a woman in a business suit holding a blue bundle. She looked up, saw Steve, and smiled. “I remember you. You're Peter's biological father, right?"

“Yeah. Yes, I am.”

She stood up and shifted the bundle to one arm to shake his hand. “I’m Peter’s case worker, Mary.” She lifted back the edge of the blanket and asked, “Would you like to hold him? I think it might help at this point. Besides, I've got some things to work out with the police.”

“Sure.” Steve reached out automatically and settled the bundle in his arms. She hurried away to find an officer, leaving Steve alone.

 _Okay, Steve, time to take a look at your kid._  Peeking behind the blanket, he saw chubby cheeks streaked with dirt and dark brown curls. The boy—Peter—was asleep, but it was clear he’d been crying from the tracks in the dirt on his face. Steve felt his heart clench.

He stood awkwardly for a little bit, cradling the boy and wondering what exactly he was doing here. He’d only seen the boy once before for twelve hours, and he hadn’t even held him then. He’d given Peter to a better home; that should have been the end of it.

Steve felt Peter stir and immediately sat down in the ambulance, fighting back the urge to call for help. He watched the boy stir and slowly open his eyes, blinking sleepily. When he didn’t know where he was, he started fussing again. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, shh,” Steve murmured. Christ, he was awful at this. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“Mama,” Peter whimpered. Steve reached up and tentatively smoothed Peter’s hair back. It was covered in ash.

“Shh, it’s alright, I’ve got you.” He felt the little boy clench his shirt and rubbed his back comfortingly. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.” Peter leaned towards Steve’s touch.

“Papa?” he whispered. He tapped Steve’s chest lightly and looked up at him with wide brown eyes.

The warmth came from nowhere, spreading through his veins and licking through his body like fire. It reached his chest and burst, swelling in a wave of emotions that left Steve desperate and heartbroken and so, so full of love.

Huh. Apparently love _could_ come all at once.

“That’s right, it’s Papa. It’s okay, Peter. I’m here. I’ll take care of you,” Steve whispered, kissing Peter’s head. Peter buried his head into Steve’s chest as he stroked the boy’s brown curls, and Steve remembered a young Bucky and Peggy and Sharon and smiled sadly. “I’ll take care of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins the dad!Steve feels...
> 
> Just a disclaimer: The scene concerning the Iraq War and Afghanistan does not necessarily reflect my personal views. But there's no chance in hell that Steve is a conservative/Republican in this century. And I don't think he would approve of the war as a whole. 
> 
> Also: It's totally creepy that Sharon was Peggy's niece so I glazed over that as much as possible. Because that is so weird. 
> 
> Also also: Carol Danvers is a fucking badass. Expect a lot of her. 
> 
> Also also also: I have no idea how the adoption system works. Does it take a day? Can you just call someone and give your child to an agency? I have no clue. So please just remember that when you're reading this chapter, and forgive me.
> 
> Any prompt ideas, leave them in the comments or leave an ask in my [tumblr box](http://halfway-punk-rock.tumblr.com/ask/)!!


	2. Us and Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://halfway-punk-rock.tumblr.com/)

“Now, what do we do when we need to cross the street?”

“Stop.” Peter jumped to a stop at the end of the sidewalk and looked up at Steve.

“And?” Steve asked, crouching down beside him. Peter scrunched up his face in thought.

“Look both ways,” he decided.

“And?”

Peter scratched his nose. “Wait for green?”

Steve smiled and swung Peter up in his arms. “Very good. So, we stopped. Now we look,” and Peter swung his head left and then right. “And wait for the green light.” When it changed, they crossed the street to Carol’s new townhouse in Manhattan. “Now, remember to be good for Aunt Carol. Don’t make a fuss when she tells you to go to bed, and remember your inhaler’s in the front pocket of your backpack. Your glasses case is in the side pocket along with your cleaning rag, and try not to eat all her blueberries this time, okay?”

“Okay Papa.”

In the three years since Steve had stepped up and taken responsibility for Peter, the two were practically inseparable. They lived in a small apartment with Bucky about two blocks from the Tower—Tony had tried to get Steve and Bucky to move in for years, they always had to come up with a different excuse when he asked—and were really only apart when the Avengers were called into battle. Carol had agreed to watch him during these times.

Peter pushed his glasses up and scratched his nose again. The smoke from the fire had damaged his eyesight and breathing, leaving him with glasses and a mild case of asthma. Steve wasn’t surprised, honestly—if it hadn’t been that, the genetics he’d inherited from Steve would have certainly left him with medical problems. The doctors they’d been to had confirmed that Peter hadn’t inherited any of the serum or its effects. Fortunately, he also hadn’t gotten the many awful and debilitating health issues Steve had dealt with as a child. And really, Peter looked pretty adorable in glasses.

“One movie only, and there’s a book in your bag for at night, you can ask her to read it if you like.” They’d arrived at the house now and Steve let Peter ring the doorbell. “And your monkey, he’s in the bottom under your clothes. I’ll be back here at 8 am sharp tomorrow and we can go get breakfast, alright?”

“Can we go someplace with bacon?”

Steve grinned. “I think we can find a diner that sells bacon, yes.”

“There you are, you’re five minutes late,” Carol said as she opened the door. “Come on in, it’s freezing out there.” Peter wriggled out of Steve’s arms and hugged Carol’s waist.

“I can’t stay, I’ve got to head out.” Steve bent down and kissed his son’s head. “You be good, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too, Papa. Be safe.” Peter smiled up at him and let Carol lead him inside.

Peter thought he was a fireman that worked emergency shifts. As far as he knew, Steve and Bucky were headed off to fight a house fire in Harlem.

Bucky met him on 5th Avenue with the motorbike. “Ready to head out?”

“Ready. Where are we heading this time?”

“The team’s meeting in fifteen minutes at the Helicarrier launch pad. We’re heading somewhere in Mexico. Something about a drug cartel and AIM.”

“Didn’t you bother to read the file?”

Bucky threw Steve the keys and slid to the back of the bike. “That’s your job. I’m more of an action man. Together we’re the perfect team.”

\--------------------

“So does everyone understand the plan? Any questions?” Steve asked as the Helicarrier dropped down to level. Sam raised his hand.

“Yeah, I’ve got one. If the rest of the ground team is—well, on the ground—why in the hell are you still up here?”

“I’m coming in hot, so keep an eye out. Remember it’s a stealth mission, so Thor, remember no lightning.”

“Or hearty laughs,” Sam added. Thor grinned and slapped his shoulder.

“I shall do my best, my winged friend,” he vowed.

“Good. On my count.” With that, Steve turned and jumped out of the plane.

 _“Son of a bitch,”_ he heard Sam mutter over the comm. _“Bucky’s gonna kill you.”_

“Get ready to jump.” Steve landed on the roof of the compound and peeked into the ceiling window.

_“On your left, asshole.”_

Sam whipped past, letting a smoke bomb drop through the window before swooping back into the air. Steve saw Thor and Tony take their positions on the left and right sides.

 _“You’re never gonna live that down,”_ Bucky muttered.

“Worth it. Now, you and Natasha head down the east corridor. Take care of the cartel head. Security’s pretty tight, so watch each other’s backs.” Steve dropped through the hole exactly 47 seconds after the smoke bomb went off. Four guards were hunched over themselves, coughing wildly. It was easy to take them out. “Once he’s taken care of, we’ll have approximately four minutes to get the information we need and get out before the alarm is raised.”

 _“We should get something to eat when all this is over,”_ Clint commented from the adjacent roof. _“I’m feeling pizza. Is there pizza in Mexico?”_

 _“It’s 3 in the morning,”_ Tony replied.

_“…Is that a no?”_

“Focus on the mission,” Steve ordered. “Stark, come down and meet me. We’re going hunting.”

 _“What time is it?”_ Bucky asked on their private comm.

“4 am eastern time.”

_“What time are you supposed to—?”_

“8 am.”

_“Oh, good. Plenty of time.”_

“He’s decided to be difficult. He asked for bacon.” Steve followed the western corridor and heard Stark’s repulsors close in from behind him.

 _“Oh yeah, I'm sure it’ll be ever so hard finding a place that sells bacon for breakfast.”_ Steve grinned in spite of himself.

Tony landed beside him and flipped up his faceplate. “So, what’s behind Door #1?” he asked, gesturing to the locked vault at the end of the corridor.

“If you can open the vault, we can find out.”

Tony grinned. “ _If_ I can open the vault, he says. Give me five minutes.”

“You’ve got three.” Steve turned to guard the corridor—and to hide his growing smile. He liked Tony, despite himself. They’d made amends after their fight on the Helicarrier, and now they regularly spoke, even outside of missions. Tony was determined to get him and Bucky to move into the tower with the rest of the team. Of course, Tony didn’t know about Peter, and that would certainly change the invitation.

Steve made sure to keep Peter and the Avengers completely separate. Peter didn’t know Steve and Bucky were Avengers, and no one but Bucky knew that Peter even existed. Bucky even made sure to wear long sleeves at all times around Peter to hide his metal arm, lest it give away that he was the Winter Soldier. They lived in a separate apartment, kept a personal distance from the rest of the team, and swore Carol to secrecy concerning the team unless there was a serious incident, such as an injury.

“We’re in.” Tony stepped back as the door swung open. “What do I win?”

Steve stepped into the vault and whistled. “A whole load of weapons. Congratulations.” The vault was filled with guns, missiles, grenades, and some weapons so advanced that Steve almost didn’t believe they were real. Tony followed behind him and started inspecting the weaponry, looking like a kid in a candy store.

“Jesus, these are advanced. Look at this one, it’s similar to the repulsor tech but it looks like it’s got a wider range, like it could take out a whole room instead of just one person at a time.” He grinned. “This could totally revolutionize the suit’s tech.”

“Then let’s get some out of here.” Steve found a handgun and tucked it away in his belt. “Nat, Bucky, how’re we looking?”

 _“Hold on,”_ Natasha replied. They heard several thumps over the comm line and what sounded like a neck breaking, and she was back. _“We’re all clear here. Four minutes starts now.”_

“Then let’s clear out.” Steve hefted his shield up and stepped back out of the vault. He turned to Tony. “Mind if I hitch a ride?”

“Hop on, Cap.” Tony flipped the faceplate down and offered a hand to Steve. He grabbed on, and Tony took off down the corridor.

 _“So does this mean no pizza?”_ Clint asked as they zipped out of the compound. Steve saw Natasha and Bucky clear out and hitch rides with Thor and Sam, respectively.

“I would enjoy a slice of your flat, cheesy bread,” Thor called.

“It’s still 3 am!” Tony said.

“Just finish the mission, Barton.” Steve shook his head and watched as Clint let an arrow loose and blew up the buildings.

_“Now, someone come get me off this damn roof.”_

\--------------------

Steve waved off the medical officer and sat up on the gurney. “I’ve got to head out,” he told Coulson. “Can we debrief later?”

“We’re almost done here,” Agent Coulson replied. “Besides, where do you have to be at 7:30 in the morning?”

“Bed, preferably.” Steve didn’t mention that he could easily function on 3 hours of sleep a week thanks to the serum. SHIELD didn’t need to know that—they’d never let him off duty.

“Just a few more questions.”

Steve sighed and checked his watch again.

Finally, Coulson nodded and closed the file briskly. “You’re free, Captain Rogers. Go get some rest.” Steve nodded and walked out of medical, catching up to Bucky on the way.

“Ready to go?” Bucky asked, shrugging on his jacket.

Steve nodded. “We have to hurry; Carol will kill me if we’re late again.”

At 7:59 sharp, Bucky and Steve arrived (panting slightly) at Carol’s doorstep, just as she and Peter were walking out. Carol was dressed for work—she was a pilot for SHIELD these days—and buckling her utility belt while she held the door open. Peter jumped into Steve’s arms.

“I’m hungry,” he said as a greeting. Steve smiled.

“I’ll bet. Where are your glasses?” Peter stopped and scrunched up his nose, a habit he had whenever he was thinking that Steve adored. He patted his backpack down and came up with his empty glasses case. Carol sighed.

“They’re probably in the bathroom, I’ll go get them,” she said, heading for the door again.

“You need to get to work,” Steve protested. “We’ll lock up behind us; you go on.” Carol nodded and headed for her car.

Once they’d retrieved Peter’s glasses and locked the house behind them, the trio turned east and headed into the city in search of a diner. As they walked, Peter chattered about his adventures with Carol.

“—we watched _Up_ and Aun’ Carol cried even though she said she didn’t, and we had hotdogs for dinner and she read me a story, and then this morning we watched the cartoon with the cat and the mouse, and Aun’ Carol said that she used to watch those cartoons when she was a kid. Did you watch those cartoons, Papa?”

“Umm… sure, yeah, I remember that cartoon,” Steve lied. He looked to Bucky for help.

“Yeah, Steve, remember those cartoons on Saturday? And the cat kept chasing the mouse but he could never catch him,” Bucky replied easily. _Clint?_ Steve mouthed. Bucky grinned and nodded.

After breakfast, Peter asked if they could go to the park. Bucky excused himself and told Peter he had to cover another firefighter’s shift, so Steve and his son wandered through Central Park. Peter tried climbing a few of the rocks and Steve just about had a heart attack when he nearly slipped.

“Can we go to the art museum, Papa?” he asked, so of course they went for the thousandth time and looked at the same artworks because Peter loved all the bright colors and strange exhibits. This new “modern art” style was confusing to Steve—how exactly a half- eaten hotdog or a giant shoe was considered art, he’d never know—but Peter got a kick out of it.

“We’ll have to go ice skating, sometime,” Steve said as they passed one of the ice rinks later that day. “Or swimming here, in the summer.” Peter nodded.

“Can we go to watch people in the big ice rink later?” he asked.

“At Rockefeller? Sure, we can go tonight if you want, when all the lights are on. Uncle Bucky and I used to skate there, back when we were younger.”

“Can we skate on it?”

Steve smiled and ruffled his son’s hair. “When you’re older, okay?” Peter nodded.

All in all, it was a pretty perfect day. Peter fell asleep that night in Steve’s lap, with some Disney movie playing in the background. Steve could never keep track of them, but Peter loved them all. Especially the older ones. Steve remembered seeing _Snow White_ in the cinemas when he was back in Brooklyn with Bucky. It had been revolutionary to the world. Now they were doing these animations that Tony called ‘3-D’ and it was even better, because it was all by computers and Steve loved that computers had made everything so much easier. Not many people knew it, but he was fascinated by the new technology in the world. It was easy to catch on to once he grasped the basics.

Steve put Peter to bed after the movie was over. He woke the boy up just long enough to change him into pajamas and brush his teeth, and then tucked him in to say goodnight. Peter turned over and sleepily kissed Steve’s nose. “Night, Papa,” he murmured, already slipping into sleep. Steve smiled and kissed his forehead and wondered how he ever thought he’d live without his son.

\--------------------

“Something’s not right.”

Tony sighed and set down his tablet. “Clint, I told you not to drink that milk, it was two weeks past its expiration date—”

“Not that.” Clint collapsed on the other end of the couch. “Even though I totally drank that milk, by the way. But I'm talking about Steve.”

“What about Steve?” Bruce asked from the kitchen.

“He never, you know, hangs out with us. I mean, sure he goes to dinner sometimes, and we’re teammates with the man and all, but have you ever actually spent any time with him? Like, real time?”

Tony shrugged. “I try inviting him to the Tower. Asked him like seven times already. He’s turned down every time. Bucky too.”

“Maybe they’re… together?” Bruce asked. He sat on the other couch and set his mug of tea down. “Like, a couple?”

“Nah, Natasha and Buck are… something. I don’t know how to define it, but it’s definitely a thing.” Clint tapped the armrest sporadically. “But maybe Steve’s got something, too. With someone else.”

“I haven’t heard anything about a woman since Sharon died,” Natasha said as she walked in. She sat next to Bruce and stole a sip of his tea. “That really seemed to break Steve’s heart.”

“Yeah, it really seemed to wreck him after he came back from the East. Remember? He always looked so sad, like he’d just watched his puppy get kicked or something. Then after a few months he was back to normal like nothing ever happened.”

“So he found a new woman, good for him.” Tony picked up his tablet again. “Why are you so concerned with his personal life?”

“Because it’s weird. The man’s all about team building and bonding, but he won’t live with us. Don’t you want to know why?” Clint leaned forward.

Natasha shrugged. “So let’s find out. Just ask him, I'm sure he’ll tell you.”

“If he hasn’t told us over the past three years, why would he tell us now?”

Bruce cleaned his glasses and stole his mug back from Natasha. “I don’t think we should get involved. Steve wants to keep his personal life separate, so let him.”

“It’s just… weird,” Clint muttered. “And I'm gonna find out what’s going on one way or another.”

\--------------------

Steve stepped into the shower and tried not to groan when the hot water hit his latest bullet wound. Peter was watching a movie in the living room with Bucky, so he probably wouldn’t hear, but Steve didn’t want to take any chances. This last battle had been pretty bad.

“Hey, Steve, you okay in there?” Bucky knocked on the door and entered the bathroom. “How’s the wound?”

“Hurts like hell. Where’s Peter?” Steve asked. He turned the water temperature up some more and bit back a wince.

“Watching some car movie in the living room. Don’t worry, I can hear him from here. Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Can it wait until I'm not in the shower?”

“Nope. It’s Avengers business, don’t want Peter to hear.”

“Fine, give me a second then.” Steve finished showering and turned the water off, grimacing as he bent. Bullet wounds healed fast, but they still hurt like hell. He grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his waist before stepping out. “Okay, go.”

“Maybe you should think about telling the team about Peter.” Bucky leaned against the counter.

“Why would I do something like that?” Steve asked. “I don’t want to put Peter in danger. Besides it’s fine the way it is now, right?”

“They’re starting to ask about why we aren’t living in the Tower with them, for one. Natasha told me that Clint’s been asking questions. If you tell them what’s going on, it could be good for Peter. Think about it, he’d have a whole team watching over him.”

“I…” Steve paused and looked towards the door, where he could hear Peter’s movie. “I don’t know.”

“Just think about it, at least. They’re gonna find out one way or another, you know. Two of them are international spies and one’s the richest guy in the fucking world.”

“Noted. Can I go get dressed now?” Bucky stepped aside and grinned.

“I’m gonna go make popcorn with the squirt,” he said. “Go make yourself decent, this is a family home and you look like one of those male strippers.”

“Thanks. How do you know what the male strippers look like?”

Bucky shrugged. “Drinks are cheaper there.”

Steve thought long and hard about telling the team. He didn’t want to seem selfish, but he liked having Peter to himself. It was like he could escape from the horrors he saw during the missions and come home to a normal, domestic life.

Steve changed into pajama pants and a white shirt and sighed. Maybe he should tell the team. Bucky was right—when Clint set his mind to something, it was impossible to get him off track. They’d find out one way or another, eventually. And if they found out a secret like that from anyone other than Steve, they might not trust him anymore.

“Papa, come watch the movie with us!” Peter patted the couch seat next to him and bounced up and down.

“I’m coming, Pete, settle down.” Steve sat next to him and managed not to groan when Peter jumped on his lap and settled against his wounded shoulder. “Hey, buddy, you want to meet some friends of mine and Bucky’s tomorrow morning? We can go someplace for breakfast.” Steve saw Bucky grin.

“Okay, Papa. Can we go someplace that has pancakes?”

“Sure, buddy.” Steve kissed his head. “All the pancakes you want.”

\--------------------

As it turned out, they didn’t get the planned meeting Steve had hoped for. An emergency call came in for Steve at around 3 am, so Bucky agreed to keep an eye on Peter while he went out to hunt an underground Nazi unit with Natasha and Sam. SHIELD had decided to bring in a small, mobile unit for this one and kept most of the team out of the loop.

 _“So, why exactly did you want to meet the team for breakfast tomorrow?”_ Natasha asked as they crept along the tunnel line. The Nazi base was located in an abandoned subway station underground, and the only reason SHIELD had found out about them was because a computer link had gone active in the area when there was only construction overhead.

“Someone I want you to meet. Someone important to me,” Steve replied.

 _“Girlfriend?”_ Steve saw Sam waggle his eyebrows.

“Not quite.” Steve held up a hand and gestured. “Keep silent, I hear noises.” Natasha nodded curtly and they went to work.

Seventeen dead Nazis and one detonated building later, and they were headed home. “Seriously, who is it you want us to meet? Boyfriend?” Sam asked. “Because you know that whole ‘Don’t Ask Don’t Tell’ was nixed a while ago, so it’s cool if you’re into that. I mean, we would’ve been fine with it before, but now the military’s cool with it, too.”

“What?” Steve shook his head. “No, it’s not… it’s not a romantic partner. Tell you what, come with me to pick him up, we’ll go to breakfast then.”

Sam shook his head. “‘Him’, huh? It’s not, like, a secret brother or something, is it?”

“Just wait.” They landed in the SHIELD landing base and were herded off to the standard medical examination, and that was all they could say on the matter.

Apparently Natasha took it upon herself to call the rest of the team, because they were waiting outside of SHIELD by the time they were done. Clint clapped Steve’s shoulder as they headed down the street for Steve’s apartment.

“Tell me now. Is it a secret brother?” he asked. “Because if Sam was the one to guess it I am going to be so pissed, I’ve been guessing all week basically and it’s exhausting—”

“Yeah? What were some of your guesses?” Steve asked, grinning.

“Oh, lots of things. Evil clone, telepathic dog, gay high-profile lover, you name it.”

Steve crossed the street with the rest of the team. “Sam was closer than any of those, I can tell you that.” He pulled out his phone and shot a text to Bucky, telling him to come down so they could go eat.

“Damn it. I was really feeling the telepathic dog one.”

Tony snorted. “Just because you want one, Clint—”

“I totally want one, who doesn’t?”

Bucky came downstairs and opened the door for the team. “He’s still upstairs, he lost his glasses again,” he told Steve as they entered the foyer.

“How could he lose his glasses? They’re supposed to be on his face.”

Bucky shrugged. “You know him, he’d lose his head if it wasn’t attached to his body.”

Thor peeked up the stairs and frowned in thought. “Captain Rogers, is it possible that the person we are here to meet—”

He was cut off by a door slamming shut and the thumping of someone running down the stairs. “Papa!” a little voice cried. Thor turned to Steve with a grin and a nod. Clearly he’d caught on.

“Who was that?” Clint asked. Steve turned to grin at him.

“That was for me,” he replied. With that, Peter rounded the corner and collided into Steve’s legs.

“Papa, can we go eat? Uncle Bucky said we could have pancakes, and also I watched cartoons this morning, and how come you have dirt in your hair? Is it from the fire, ‘cause Uncle Bucky said you had to go fight a fire this morning and—” Steve picked Peter up and shushed him quietly.

“Peter, these are some friends of ours. Guys, this is my son, Peter.” Steve smiled at them.

There was a long silence while Peter stared at the team and the team stared right back. Natasha was the first to speak up. “It’s very nice to finally meet you, Peter.” She pushed off the wall she’d been leaning on and gracefully extended a hand to shake. Peter eyed it warily before accepting shyly.

“Hi,” he said quietly. He’d never been very good around new people.

Thor stepped forward next and bowed before taking Peter’s hand. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, young Peter. I am honored to meet the son of our good Captain.”

“Are you guys firefighters, too?” Peter asked, scratching his nose and adjusting his glasses.

Tony stood up. “Some of us are, sure. Not me, I’m in technology. He’s a doctor,” he said, pointing to Bruce. Steve caught Tony’s eye and mouthed, _Thank you._ Tony grinned and winked. “I’m Tony, by the way. This is Bruce, that’s Natasha and Thor, the guy giving you the fish stare is Clint, and Sam’s over there in the corner.”

“Hi. Why’s that guy staring at me?” Peter looked over towards Clint, who was still staring blankly.

“Smoke from the fires damaged his brain. Give him a second, he’s processing everything,” Sam replied. He smacked Clint’s head and shook his shoulder. “Say hello, moron.”

“Hello,” Clint said in a hollow voice. He snapped up a second later. “Wait, son? That was, like, the one thing I didn’t guess. Are you kidding me?”

“There he is,” Bruce muttered.

Peter tugged on Steve’s shirtsleeve. “Papa, can we go eat now?” he whispered. Steve smiled.

“Sure, let’s go eat. I think they’d like to get to know you, anyways.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I stated before, any opinions expressed by Steve are not necessarily my own, I'm just writing how I think he would think in this century. A big point I'm trying to emphasize is the difference in parenting styles between Steve and Tony. Tony would have one big freak out at the beginning and then throw himself into the task whole- heartedly, determined to become a better father than his own was. Steve would freak out, then make a decision based on practicality (such as giving Peter up for adoption), but after all that time, he would probably freak out less when given the choice on whether to raise Peter again (after the fire). Tony would spoil Peter more, while Steve would be more sensible and responsible- driven (reminding Peter everything he needs, all that). 
> 
> If you were wondering what Peter's glasses look like, picture something like [this](http://www.smallfryblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/jonaspaul1-624x1024.jpg). I love those glasses so much and I think they'd look adorable on little Peter. Also, I know I have a tendency to write Peter with asthma. I've always pictured Peter with asthma, and the spider- bite heals it along with his eyesight after a while. In the comics and the movies he just... seemed like he'd have asthma, I guess. The glasses thing is canon, but it's never explained why Peter needs them so I took the liberty of saying it's from the fire (since it is an AU, remember).


	3. Any Colour You Like

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://halfway-punk-rock.tumblr.com/)

Peter was adorable. If Tony didn’t know better he’d never assume that Peter was Steve’s son. Peter had brown curls where Steve’s hair was blonde and straight. Peter had brown eyes where Steve’s were clear blue. Tony knew from Steve’s medical file that the boy must have inherited some medical issues, if his black frame glasses and occasional cough were any indication. But the only physical resemblance they bore to each other was their smile—slightly higher on the left than on the right, with a dimple at the end.

Once Peter warmed up to the team, he rarely stopped talking. He asked questions about absolutely everything—Tony’s new technology, what Bruce was doing with genetics (he was very interested in that), Clint’s archery “hobby”, why Natasha’s hair was so red, why Thor talked like the hero from an ancient historical movie (that one they never really answered, just sort of glossed over it).

He sort of reminded Tony of himself at his age. He looked at everything with wide, curious eyes and a childlike glee that Tony found fascinating. At one point he tugged on Steve’s sleeve and pointed to the Empire State Building visible from the diner window. “Papa, how do they make the buildings so high up like that?” he whispered.

“I don’t know. You should ask Tony, he’s better at that kind of stuff than I am,” Steve replied. Peter turned to Tony expectantly.

“Do you know?” he asked. Tony leaned forward.

“Sure I do. They start with the foundation on the ground…”

After breakfast, Peter insisted they go to Rockefeller Center to watch the ice skaters. The rest of the team started to head the other way, waving goodbye, but Peter turned and tugged on Clint’s arm. “You’re gonna come with us to see the skaters, right?” And it was really hard to say no to that, so the team went with them. After Peter got bored with that, he asked to go to the toy store, and then into Times Square to see all the people in costumes. Occasionally, one of the team would feel obligated to ask if they should go and let Steve spend time alone with his son. Steve would just grin and shake his head.

“If you leave now, he’ll never forgive you.” And Peter would turn and smile brilliantly at the group, and that was basically it.

Finally Tony just pulled Steve aside and said, “Look, you guys might as well come have dinner with us at the Tower. We’ve got a shit load of pop culture movies to catch you up on—we’ll stick one in and order a dozen pizzas, it’ll be great.”

Steve smiled and Tony couldn’t help but notice how similar his and Peter’s smiles really were. “Sure, Tony, that sounds great.”

So they put in _Star Wars_ because that was kid- friendly (and frankly it was a travesty that Steve hadn’t seen it yet, he’d been out of the ice for over five years for Christ’s sake) and ordered pizza and breadsticks and halfway through Episode V Peter fell asleep with his head nestled in Natasha’s lap. She just about melted and spent the rest of the night gently stroking his hair.

“Who knew you had a maternal side,” Clint said at one point. She threw the remote at his head without ever taking her eyes off the sleeping boy.

Tony returned from the kitchen and leaned over Steve’s shoulder. “You guys can stay here the night, there’s a guest room down the hall and two doors on the right.” Steve turned to look at him.

“Are you sure?” he asked, furrowing his brow. “We wouldn’t want to impose.” Tony grinned.

“I’ve been trying to get you to move in here for years, you really think one night’s gonna be an imposition? There’s spare toothpaste and toothbrushes in the room, don’t worry. And clothes. You can borrow one of my old college shirts for Peter to sleep in if you want, they don’t fit me anyways.”

“Wow, thank you. That’s… thank you, Tony.” Steve looked like he’d just been given the greatest present in the world and Tony wasn’t sure why that made him feel warm inside, so he just shrugged and threw a casual grin Steve’s way.

“Remember the philanthropist bit? Not so bad, huh?”

So Steve got up and managed to get Peter changed and ready for bed with the boy still mostly asleep, and Tony was definitely only watching that for _science_ , no other reason whatsoever, thank you. Steve would look up and smile at Tony every once in a while. It was weird.

“So what’s Peter’s favorite color?” he asked, pulling out his phone. He scrunched up his nose and tapped a few buttons.

“Red, mostly. Bright red, like fire trucks.” Steve tucked Peter in and kissed his forehead. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s for an experiment. Favorite animal?”

“Spiders.”

“Ugh, seriously?” Tony shrugged and tapped something in.

“Oh, and mermaids,” Steve added.

“Mermaids aren’t real.”

“I’m not telling my four year old that mermaids don’t exist, Tony.”

“No, no, I get it. Favorite food?”

Steve shrugged. “Whatever he can put in his mouth. He makes odd requests sometimes, asks for something specific, but he’s never had a preference for one food over another.”

Tony followed Steve down the hall, eyes on his phone the whole time. Really, it was a miracle he didn’t run into a wall or something. “Favorite movie?”

“What’s this about?” Steve asked, swinging the kitchen door open for Tony before he could run into it. Tony headed for the coffee pot and started it without ever looking up.

“I told you. Science. Answer the questions.”

“I don’t know the exact name of it. Bucky caught it on TV once when he was babysitting and they ended up buying all the movies and books that night. It has elves and goblins and magic, things like that. The title has something to do with rings, I think.”

“As in _Lord of the_? This kid is awesome.”

\--------------------

Two weeks later, Steve woke up in the middle of the night to his phone ringing. He eased out of bed, careful not to wake Peter— their apartment was only two bedrooms and SHIELD refused to move them into a larger one, so he and Peter shared a room—and made his way into the kitchen.

“Hello? Do you have any idea what time it is?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

 _“Yeah, sure, that’s not important right now.”_ Of course it was Tony at 3 am.

“Tony? Is something wrong?” Tony sounded manic and half- asleep, and that was never good. Last time he’d gone on a work bender he’d ended up crashing in the middle of battle from exhaustion.

_“Yes. You’re still not living in the Tower. And I'm changing that. Pack your things, you can move in tomorrow. Er, today. Wow, is it really that late?”_

“What are you talking about?” Steve asked.

_“Moving. In. To. The Tower. Pay attention, Cap.”_

“Tony, I can’t move in, you know that. I have Peter.”

There was a banging sound and Tony cursed. _“Dummy, go sit in the corner, you’re in time out. And yeah, I know you’ve got Peter, I designed a whole room for him. And you. Two separate rooms, but they’re close together so he’ll be near, don’t worry…”_

“Tony. I… I haven’t told Peter about the team. About what we do. Remember? I said we were firefighters.”

_“Yeah, we can keep up the ruse if you want, but I was thinking. A whole team of superheroes, right? Those are some pretty awesome babysitters. Also, JARVIS literally has eyes everywhere and an incredibly advanced security system, he can literally electrocute an intruder, that’s the best babysitter there is. And how cool would it be for the kid to have superheroes around him all the time? Not that firefighters aren’t heroes, of course, but we have a Norse god for Christ’s sakes, that’s pretty cool.”_

“When was the last time you slept?” Steve asked. “You’re rambling a bit.”

_“I tend to do that. I think faster than I talk, it’s how I compensate. Maybe I could invent something that relays my thoughts as I think them, that would save so much time…”_

“Tony.”

 _“Right, sorry, just think about it, okay? The rooms are all ready whenever you want, seriously Steve. I just think—wait, shit, put that down Dummy. No, do not…if you spray me with that… Okay, I gotta go, just think about it, okay?”_ There was a click and the line went dead.

Steve rubbed his forehead. He was too tired to think this through right now, so he made his way back to bed and slept for another few hours before his alarm went off. Bucky was already slumped over the counter in the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee. “Who was on the phone this morning?” he asked in greeting.

“Tony. He… apparently made us rooms. At the Tower. He wants us to go live there.” Steve poured two cups of coffee and slid one mug over to Bucky.

“With the kid?”

Steve shrugged. “He said he had a room for Peter and everything already made up.”

“That’s weird. Didn’t think Stark would be into kids. At all. He seems like the type that would hate them, actually.” Bucky scratched his stomach and inhaled some coffee. “Then again, he’s got the maturity of a five year old, so maybe that’s what’s working for him.”

“If we move into the Tower, I’ll have to tell Peter the truth. About what we do.” Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes, shaking the last of the sleep from his head. “I don’t know if I can put him in danger like that.”

“Jesus, Steve, it’s a group of incredibly talented superheroes all working together. I mean, did you see Nat when he fell asleep on her lap? She was like putty in his hands and he wasn’t even awake.” Bucky stretched his back and finished off his cup. He stood and poured another one. “We deal with pain and death and God knows what else every day. We fought an army of oversized, laser wielding cats the other day, Steve. You and I can come home and have something… normal, something domestic. A routine. Don’t you think that if they could have that they would fight like hell to keep it safe?”

Steve smiled despite himself. He could imagine it, and it was pretty great. It’d give his son more people to talk to, and it could pull the team closer together. They could be more than just a team.

He had just made his decision when he heard the bedroom door creak open and feet patter down the hall. Steve turned just in time to see that Bucky didn’t have long sleeves on and his metal arm was exposed before Peter came wandering in.

“Uncle Bucky, how come your arm is shiny?”

\--------------------

“So you guys are really superheroes?” Peter shoveled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. Steve wiped a drop of milk from his cheek with a napkin.

“That’s right. Uncle Bucky is the Winter Soldier, and…”

“Your pops is the one and only Star Spangled Man,” Bucky finished.

“Is that true, Papa? You’re the real Cap’n America, like in the comic books and on the TV show?”

Steve smiled. “It’s true. I’ve got the shield and everything.”

Peter’s mouth dropped open. “You have the _shield_?”

“Yep. Wait here.” Steve ran to the bedroom and opened the closet. There was a secret compartment in the back wall where he stored his shield and costume to make sure Peter never accidentally found it. He grabbed the shield and made his way back to the kitchen. Peter’s eyes were wide as saucers when Steve placed it on the table.

“Whoa.” Peter touched it with one finger almost reverently, as if he were afraid it would shatter. He grinned. “My papa’s a _superhero!_ ”

“Now remember, you can’t tell anyone.” Steve touched Peter’s chin so he would look him in the eyes. “I mean it, Peter. Not Gwen from downstairs, or Harry at school, or anyone. The only people who know are Uncle Bucky and the rest of the team, okay?” Peter nodded solemnly.

“Does this mean that the team are all superheroes, too?” he asked. “Like Clint and Tony and Dr. Bruce?”

“All of them. We’re the Avengers, kid.” Bucky ruffled his hair. “Clint is Hawkeye, Bruce is the Hulk, Nat’s Black Widow, Sam’s the Falcon, Thor is… well, Thor, and Tony is—”

“Iron Man!” Peter jumped up on his chair. “This is so cool!”

Steve felt a swell of pride. Hearing his son so excited always made him happy, but knowing that he could really be a hero in Peter’s eyes was an amazing feeling.

“Can we see the team again, Papa?” Peter shook Steve’s arm and jumped up and down. Steve automatically reached out a hand to steady him. “I wanna ask Tony how his suit works and how Dr. Bruce gets all green and big.”

“Of course he goes for the science geeks. We’ve lost him already,” Bucky shook his head.

“Actually, Peter, Tony asked if we wanted to go live in the Tower with the team. What do you think about that?” Steve asked. He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

Peter nodded and clapped. “We can go live with them?” he gasped.

“If you want. Tony says you even get your own room.”

“Can we go pack now, Papa?” Peter jumped down and sprinted towards the bedroom.

“Get dressed first!” Steve called. “And brush your teeth, I’ll be checking to make sure you did!”

“Okay!”

Bucky leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Since we’re getting new roommates, I should warn you that I will kill Clint if he steals my potato chips.”

“Try not to kill our teammate if you can help it.” Steve refilled their mugs and listened to his son banging drawers in the other room.

“Anything goes. That circus freak needs to be taken down a few notches, anyways.”

\--------------------

Honestly, Tony wasn’t entirely sure why he was fighting so hard to get Steve and Bucky in the Tower. They were a close team, sure, and it would be great to have more people, but there was something that was driving Tony, pushing him to bring the team together. He sure as hell didn’t know why it was suddenly even more important once they’d learned Steve had a kid. That should have been a huge turn- off. Tony and kids didn’t mesh very well—something about the alcoholism and his own issues with his dad just made things awkward. But Peter was… something else. Tony didn’t feel it necessary to drink when the kid was around, for one. And that was actually a pretty big plus.

Steve and Bucky had moved in the day after Tony’s 3 am call, about three weeks ago. Peter had immediately latched on to Natasha, who was now fondly referred to as “Annasha” (Peter had trouble with ‘t’ sounds so he’d shortened ‘Aunt Tasha’ and that was absolutely _not_ adorable, Tony stood by that firmly). He also found an unlikely companion with Bruce (possibly solely because of the ‘science’ aspect).

“How’s this work?” They were in Bruce’s lab after lunch. The rest of the team was called out on a mission somewhere in the Midwest, and Fury had decided that Bruce would do more harm than good and, in his words, “the less amount of time he had to spend around Tony and Clint, the better”. So they were watching Peter instead.

“Here, I’ll show you.” Bruce rolled up his sleeves and tapped away on his keyboard. A hologram popped up on the table of a chemical compound he’d been working on. Bruce cleared it and brought up a cube shape instead. “Now, take your hand—that’s it, just grab it and move it around.” Peter did, and the hologram followed him precisely. “Now you can make it bigger, or smaller. Tap this, you can change the color. Here, I’ll add more shapes if you want.”

Tony watched Peter play with the hologram and started thinking of formulas for a sandbox of sorts, a digital play area for Peter to use. Maybe he could put in an aquatic simulation, and a jungle one, and… Steve said Peter liked spiders, maybe he could do something with that.

“Where did Papa go?” Peter asked as he played. He started stacking the shapes into buildings.

“Off to fight crime and save the free world from tyranny,” Clint replied. He was practicing his shots with a holographic bow Tony had designed. It was real to the touch, but the arrows were formed from projectors attached to the bow and the walls and ceiling, allowing Clint to practice wherever he wanted. It made for a lot less personal damage, overall.

“What’s tyranny?”

“Like bad guys,” Bruce explained. “Specifically in this case, giant squids in the Great Salt Lake.”

“Where’s that?”

“In Utah,” Tony said. He pulled up a screen and started laying out a base format for the sandbox design.

“Here, I’ll show you.” Bruce pulled up a map and zeroed in on the state. “Right… here. That’s where your dad is.”

“Where are we?” Peter placed more cubes carefully and painted them bright green.

“Here, in New York. See? There’s the Tower, right there.” Bruce switched to the street view and a 3D image of the Tower appeared. Peter glanced at it and started building what looked like a model of the tower.

“What’re you making, squirt?” Clint paused and watched Peter work.

“Houses for the team. See? The green is for Hulk and the blue is for Papa and me, and the purple is for you, and Tony gets the orange, and Dr. Bruce gets yellow, and Annasha gets red.”

“Why are Hulk and Dr. Bruce in separate houses?” Tony asked. “And why do I get orange?”

“Cause they’re two people. Dr. Bruce needs his own house, and Hulk doesn’t wanna live in a yellow house,” Peter replied, as if that explained everything. “And I like orange, that’s why.”

“Technically, the Hulk is part of me, Peter,” Bruce said. Peter shook his head.

“Papa says just cause you and him share a body doesn’t mean you’re the same person. Papa says Hulk protects you and the team, like a bodyguard. Papa says he keeps you safe.”

Bruce smiled and rubbed Peter’s back. “Sure, okay. What your dad said.”

“Sir, the team has returned from their mission,” JARVIS said over the intercom. Tony scooted his chair back and stood up.

“Right, let’s go see if we’re having calamari for dinner.” He scooped Peter up and set him on the ground.

“What’s calamari?” he asked as they walked towards the elevator.

“Fried squid. It’s disgusting.”

“Cool.”

\--------------------

Peter’s room was pretty great, if Tony said so himself. He’d taken notes on what Steve had told him about Peter and extended on that, working furiously to make it as perfect as possible. It was important it was perfect, Tony didn’t know why. Bruce told him it was a “desire to fulfill his own childhood” or something. Apparently that was why he worked so hard on everyone else’s rooms, too. Some need to be perfect, Bruce said, in one aspect of his life.

The walls were bright red, the exact shade that New York fire stations used on their trucks. In the corner of the room there was a play area complete with different spider books and spider toys and games, as well as several mermaid themed play items. A wooden dresser stood off to the side next to a mirror and dress- up area (apparently Peter liked dressing up in costumes, his favorite at the moment was a pirate). A map of Middle- Earth was painted on the wall.

But his favorite part was the bed.

It was more of a nest, really—a wooden ladder led up into a cluster of pillows and cushions and the softest bed available, nestled in a bunk bed shaped like an old tree. On the ceiling above and hanging around the branches, holographic stars and colored lights glistened in the dark. There was a bottom bunk, as well, in a secret nook at the base of the tree that led to the hollow inside with another bed. Orange and red holographic lights appeared on the walls, imitating a fire’s glow.

Peter had flipped when he saw the bed. He’d immediately raced into the living room, grabbed Tony’s hand, and dragged him back to the bedroom. “You made me a tree house!” he’d cried, jumping up and down. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

“I heard you were a fan of _Lord of the Rings_ , right? So I figured you’d better have a Hobbit hole.”

“Thank you!”

Now Tony watched Steve tuck Peter in to the nest on the top bunk (and Peter was still wearing one of Tony's old MIT shirts to sleep in over his Iron Man pajama pants and oh god that was doing things to Tony's stomach). He flipped on the star lights and put Peter's glasses in a nook Tony had built into the bed for that purpose. Tony smiled when Steve leaned over and kissed Peter’s head. It was oddly relaxing to watch.

“Night, Papa,” he heard Peter mumble.

“Goodnight, Peter. Sweet dreams. I love you.” Steve smiled in the glow of the room and kissed his head again.

“Love you.”

The warm feeling in his chest that stayed with him the rest of the night should have been the first clue that Tony was in over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff. So much fluff. This chapter is basically all fluff with some minor plot. Actually, this whole fic is pure family fluff.
> 
> This one will probably be shorter than It Takes a Village overall. I have so many wonderful prompts from you all and I can't wait to get started on them! Thank you all so much!!
> 
> I got the idea for Peter's bed from [this](http://homedesignews.com/ideas/7-collection-tree-house-bunk-beds-ideas) website (except Peter's bed is much cooler, let's be honest). I used to love the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings books when I was younger, my dad used to read them to me at night. One of my first memories was seeing Fellowship of the Ring in theaters with my dad when I was 6, so I thought I'd add that in here. Plus we all know Tony would secretly geek out at that :)


	4. A Great Day for Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://halfway-punk-rock.tumblr.com/)

Steve poured himself another cup of coffee and glanced into the living room again. After Clint had mentioned casually that he’d never seen _Lord of the Rings_ , Peter had been so offended that he had immediately insisted they watch it together. The rest of the team had joined in sometime during the opening prologue. Steve still didn’t have a clue what the movie was about (what in God’s name were Orcs, and why was that small goblin thing so obsessed with the ring?) but his son seemed to be having a grand time so he let it slide.

“So Frodo is Bilbo’s nephew, right?” Clint asked. Peter nodded. “Where are Frodo’s parents then? Or are all dwarves raised by indirect family members?”

“Frodo and Bilbo are Hobbits, not dwarves,” Tony said. “And in the book they were killed in a boating accident when Frodo was ten.”

“Twelve,” Bruce corrected. “Bilbo was his cousin in the books, though.”

“Bilbo took Frodo in and raised him,” Peter finished, “And gave him the Ring, and Gandalf tells him he has to leave ‘cause Sauron will be angry.”

“Sauron… was the first owner of the Ring?” Steve asked as he sat down next to Peter, who curled up in his lap. Peter nodded.

“Uh huh, but it got cut off his hand.”

“By the creepy little goblin thing, right?” Clint asked.

“By Prince Isildur, who was killed by Orcs, so the Ring was lost until Gollum found it. Now pay attention.” Tony threw a pillow at Clint’s head and turned the volume up.

“I’m paying perfect attention, thank you. I’m just confused who the dwarves are.” Clint threw some popcorn up in the air and caught them in his mouth.

“The only main dwarf in this movie is Gimli, and he comes later. Now shush.”

Steve smiled and returned his focus to the movie. Apparently the wizard in white was now evil—did that mean that the gray one was too? This movie was terribly confusing.

“Sir, Director Fury is on the line for you,” JARVIS called from the ceiling. “The Avengers are requested in Brooklyn. Apparently there’s some business with sentient lampposts setting cars on fire.”

“This is my life now,” Tony groaned. “Pause the movie, JARVIS, and get the suits ready. Let’s head out.”

\--------------------

“Are you watching porn?”

Steve turned towards the living room at the sound of Bucky’s voice and thanked his lucky stars that Peter was taking a nap.

“It’ not porn, it’s _Game of Thrones_ ,” Clint replied as Steve entered the room.

“Those two men are having sex on the TV. I’m pretty sure that’s porn,” Bucky pointed out.

“That’s nothing, seriously,” Tony waved his hand, eyes on his tablet. He was upgrading something in his suit, apparently something had gone wrong in the last battle and he’d crashed headfirst into a lamppost and wound up with a concussion. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got tapes on the Internet worse than that.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Stark. That’s definitely porn.”

Steve glanced at the TV and immediately looked away, a blush rising on his cheeks. Bucky was right—that was definitely graphic.

“It’s creative design. Or something. It’s not porn, is the point.”

Steve sat on the couch and pointedly looked anywhere but at the TV. “Is that even legal?” he asked.

“What, porn on TV? Not really. But like I said, it’s not porn.”

“I think he meant the two men thing,” Sam cut in. “Wasn’t that illegal in the 40s?”

“It’s not now?” Bucky asked. He flopped on the other couch and popped a soda can open. “That’s pretty big. That’s how we lost Charlie in the neighborhood back in ’37. Poor bastard was dragged out of his apartment in the middle of the night. Never saw him again.”

“Seriously?” Tony looked up at that. “It was that bad?”

“Worse than that, sometimes.” Steve shrugged. “I heard it was legal now; some states even allow same- sex marriage these days.”

“New York does,” Clint mumbled from the armchair. He’d collapsed there about seven hours ago and hadn’t moved an inch since. Steve was starting to get worried.

Tony reached over Steve and pulled another tablet from the drawer next to him (and that brought Tony dangerously close to Steve’s chest and he absolutely was not blushing at that). “Here, educate yourself.” He tapped in a few commands and several articles on same- sex rights and homosexuality popped up. “See if you learn something new.”

Steve scanned the first article. “There’s more than just homosexual and heterosexual?” he asked.

Tony grinned. “It’s a brave new world, Cap.”

\--------------------

Tony was right. There were more sexualities and genders than Steve knew what to do with. He’d started taking notes, just to make sure he’d get everything right. They even had flags now, and parades. One article that had really caught his attention was about ‘bisexuality’, and apparently people could be attracted to both men and women. Huh. Steve had discreetly glanced over at Tony and bookmarked that article.

It didn’t really click with Steve why he’d done that until later.

He and Peter had gone to the grocery store down the street from the Tower because Peter had eaten all the blueberries in one sitting (again) and Peter had heard loud music and insisted they go see what it was about. Down the street, a large parade had formed on the street, complete with floats and vendors. People crammed in the sidewalks and spilled out onto the street, which was apparently blocked off for the event.

“Papa, what’s all this for?” Peter asked. He perched up higher on Steve’s arm and waved at a few parade members.

“I’m not sure. Let’s find out, shall we?” Steve made his way towards the center of the commotion, where several booths and tents were set up. One girl was alone at her table, which had a sign that read ‘Pride Flag Face Painting’.

“It’s a pride parade,” Steve said. Peter tilted his head in confusion.

“What’re they proud of?”

“They’re proud of who they are and who they love. It’s about people that love other people, people of the same gender. Or other genders.”

“Oh. Okay. Papa, can I ask her to paint my face?” Peter pointed at the girl, tugging on Steve’s sleeve.

“I think we can do that, sure.” Steve went to the table and smiled at the girl, who was sporting bright pink hair and a rainbow tutu. She smiled in return and pulled out a few sheets of sample flags.

“Any one in particular you want to support?” she asked. Peter scrunched his nose.

“You pick, Papa,” he decided. Steve smiled.

“How about…” He glanced over the options and stopped at one in particular. Pink on the top, blue on the bottom, purple in the middle. “How about this one?”

“Okay.” Steve sat in the chair and plopped Peter on his lap, who turned his cheek for the girl. “What’s that one mean?”

“It’s for people who like boys and girls,” Steve replied.

“Why?”

“Because some people like more than just one gender. Like some boys like girls, and some like boys, and some like both. This flag is for the ones who like both.”

“Is this your flag?” the girl asked. Peter looked up at him expectantly.

“I… yes, actually, it is,” he said finally. And that was easier to say out loud than he’d thought. Steve had never really thought about it—it always seemed like he had more important things to worry about—but he was here, and all these people were gathered to support themselves and each other. If he was going to be honest with himself, this was the perfect place to do it.

“So I can wear your flag?” Peter asked. Steve kissed his other cheek.

“Sure you can.”

“Okay. Can we call the rest of the team and ask them to come down here with us?”

So Steve did, while the girl put the finishing touches on Peter’s flag (she asked if he wanted glitter and he just about bounced out of Steve’s lap).

 _“What the hell is all that noise?”_ Tony asked. _“Are you at a rock concert?”_

“Peter and I are at a parade, three blocks down from the Tower. He wanted to know if you and the team wanted to join us.”

_“What parade… is it Thanksgiving?”_

Steve heard Clint in the background shout, _“It’s August, you asshole.”_

_“I’ve just been informed that it is not in fact Thanksgiving. Which once again begs the original question.”_

“Can I talk to him?” Peter asked. Steve handed him the phone and twisted him a bit so the girl could finish with the glitter. “Tony, it’s a parade with people in tutus and flags and everyone’s in their underwear, you gotta come!”

Steve heard Tony laugh and say, _“It’s a pride parade, you mean?”_ and Clint in the background shout, _“Oh my god we’re going.”_

“Uh huh. The lady gave me a flag on my cheek and she said she could put one on Papa’s arm.” The girl gave him an apologetic look at that. Steve just shrugged and rolled up his sleeve.

“Might as well match him,” he murmured. She grinned and cleaned her brush.

“Papa, Tony wants to talk to you.” Steve took the phone again.

“Are you coming down?” he asked.

_“Yeah, we’ll be there in a bit. Pick a street corner and stand there, I’ll track your phone and…Jesus, Clint, what are you wearing? Okay, we’ll be there soon.”_

“Would you like some glitter, too?” the girl asked.

“You gotta get glitter, Papa,” Peter tugged his shirt.

“I guess that answers that.” Steve leaned towards her so she could reach his arm again.

Ten minutes later, he was standing on the street corner with Peter on his shoulder. The face-painting girl had given Peter a pink headband with hearts on it, which he promptly asked if he could put glitter on. So they found an arts and crafts tent for kids and Peter covered the headband in rainbow glitter and glue before putting it on. He then realized he could put glitter on his arms and in his hair (and Steve’s hair). He was now completely covered in glitter, munching on a pretzel and wearing the biggest smile Steve had ever seen.

Natasha came up behind Steve and tapped his other shoulder. “Hey there, soldier. Good to see you’re not totally freaked out by this.”

Steve turned to her. She was wearing jeans and a t- shirt that said ‘EQUALITY’ in pink Sharpie and had an ‘A’ on her cheek. “Why would I be freaked out?” he asked. “This is great. Peter got flags painted on us. He said he wanted to support his dad.”

“Good to hear. What’s with the glitter?” And that was how he came out to Natasha.

Clint and Bruce showed up next. Clint was wearing rainbow suspenders (“Tony made me change the pants, they matched the suspenders”) and a bright purple shirt with an equal sign. He had a rainbow flag painted on his forehead. “What?” he asked when he caught Steve looking. “It’s not like you were forthcoming with yours.” Bruce just shrugged and scratched at his cheek, where he had a bisexual flag painted.

“No one asked,” he told Steve. Clint grinned and winked at Bruce. Steve noticed that Bruce blushed a bit and chose to remain silent.

Sam, Bucky, and Thor had bright red ‘A’s on their cheeks. “For ally, in case you were wondering. Nice flag,” Sam said.

When Peter saw Tony, he climbed down Steve’s arm and ran straight to him. Tony caught him and swung him up, ruffling some of the glitter from his hair. “Jesus, kid, did you bathe in glitter or what?” he asked.

“I like glitter,” Peter replied. “What’s your flag mean?”

“It means I can like everyone and anyone, no questions asked.” Tony’s was pink, yellow, and blue—Steve remembered that was pansexual. “What’s with yours?”

“It’s for Papa.” Peter tightened his headband and straightened his glasses. “And I got a pretzel.”

“Can I have a bite?”

“Uh huh.”

They spent the rest of the day at the parade. At one point a group of drag queens walked past, and when Peter waved one of them broke off and came over to speak to him. He asked her where she had gotten her feather boa from and said he liked all her glitter and her tutu. She laughed and gave him some of her bead necklaces and told him that she liked his glitter as well, and that he was very sweet for coming out to support the parade. Peter grinned and said, “I like supporting Papa.” Steve felt his chest swell and he smiled for the rest of the day.

By the time they got home, Peter was ready to drop from exhaustion. Steve managed to get him something to eat and get him in the bath without him collapsing.

“Thank you for taking me to see the parade, Papa,” Peter said while Steve scrubbed his hair.

“Any time, buddy. I had a lot of fun. I think everyone else did, too.”

“I think Clint had more fun than anyone else,” Tony spoke up from the doorway. Steve turned and smirked.

“Those drag queens sure did love him,” he replied. “I’m pretty sure he got all of their numbers.”

“Something tells me he’s already got his eye on a prize.” Tony sat on the toilet seat and picked some glitter from Peter’s hair. “You’re gonna be sparkling for a week, kid.”

Peter giggled and pointed at Tony’s hair. “You too.” One of the parade members had taken to throwing handfuls of glitter at the crowd, and a clump of the stuff had managed to fall on Tony.

“At least he gave me the gold glitter. I don’t think I could explain bright pink sparkling hair at the next board meeting. At least this way I can claim it's from the armor or something.”

Steve finally gave up on trying to get all the glitter out of Peter’s hair and drained the tub (leaving a ring of rainbow sparkles around the edge). Tony handed him a towel and Peter’s pajamas, grinning at the faded MIT shirt.

“You’re gonna wear holes into this shirt, you know,” he told Peter.

“You gave him eight of them, I think he’s okay for a while,” Steve replied. He got Peter dressed for bed and helped him brush his teeth.

Peter tugged on his sleeve as they made their way to the bedroom. “Can I sleep in your room tonight, Papa?” he whispered.

“Alright. Just for tonight, okay?” Steve replied. He knew Peter had bad dreams sometimes and wasn’t used to sleeping alone in a bed, so Steve was easing him into it slowly. 

“Okay.” Steve tucked him in and turned a bedside light on so it wouldn’t be completely dark in the room. Peter leaned up and kissed his nose as usual (and if that wasn’t the sweetest thing Steve didn’t know what was). “Night, Papa.”

“Goodnight, Peter. I love you.”

“Love you. Night, Tony.”

Tony grinned as he passed the doorway. “G’night, squirt.”

Steve turned off the lights and shut the door quietly. “Hey, Tony?”

“Yeah? What’s up, Cap?”

Steve walked towards him and leaned against the wall, scratching the back of his head bashfully. “I... I just wanted to say thank you. For everything.”

Tony blinked up at him in confusion. “Yeah. Sure. No problem.” He looked a little uncomfortable, so Steve decided not to push it.

“Want to watch a movie?” he asked instead. “I still haven’t seen that dinosaur one you told me about?”

“You haven’t seen _Jurassic Park_? Were you living under a rock the five years you’ve been unfrozen? Let’s go, that is atrocious and I'm fixing it right now.”

Steve smiled and let himself be led into the living room. Today was a really great day, after all.

\--------------------

Tony curled up on the couch and tapped a few commands into his tablet. “Come here, the movie’s starting,” he called. Steve waved and passed into the kitchen.

“I was going to make some popcorn,” Steve replied. “Want some?”

“Sure, whatever. Just hurry up.” Tony pressed the pause button anyways and waited while Steve made the popcorn and poured it into bowls for them. He plopped one on Tony’s lap and settled into the other side of the couch, knees bent and feet propped up on the cushions. They barely touched Tony’s thigh, and he was _not_ thinking about that, about how close Steve was and how just a few more centimeters and they would be _touching_.

Nope. Not thinking about it.

“So, this movie was directed by Steven Spielberg, and he’s amazing, he did _E.T._ and _Jaws_ and _Schindler’s List_ , you have got to see that one by the way. Oh, and the _Indiana Jones_ films, and _War Horse_. You know what? We’re just going to have a Spielberg movie marathon one day, it’ll be great. And most of his movies are kid- friendly, even better.” Tony knew he was rambling, but Steve was right there and warm and _oh my god Tony wanted to touch him_.

Oh shit.

“Tony? Tony, are you okay?” Steve leaned forward and made to touch him and that was so not okay, so Tony nodded fast and turned the volume up.

“I’m great, just fine. You gotta watch the movie, though, seriously, it’s a classic.” Tony waved towards the TV and discreetly moved away from Steve, just a little bit.

Okay, so Tony had known for a while that he felt something for Steve. He’d marked it down in the beginning as good old- fashioned American lust for a good old- fashioned American hottie. He turned on the charm and laughed it off when Steve gave him stern glances and had told himself that was that. But something about having him _here_ , in the Tower, so close, was starting to grate on Tony’s libido. And oh god, seeing him with Peter, all warm and comforting and _domestic_ , that was so not helping. Plus, he _thanked_ Tony. No one ever thanked Tony, not like that. Not sincerely. Not like Steve had, with that warm smile he had that was bigger on one side than the other and had a dimple and made his eyes crinkle and made Tony just want to wrap up in him and breathe in Steve and feel warm—

Fuck, he had it bad.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Steve’s nose wrinkle (he did that when he was confused, Peter had obviously inherited that trait). “So they cloned the dinosaurs… to make a park?” he asked.

“Yeah, the guy owns a bioengineering company and thought that it would attract tourists and gain the company a ton of money, so he genetically created dinosaurs by mixing DNA extracted from mosquitoes in amber with frog genes.”

Steve smiled. “I bet Bruce loves this movie.”

“Ten bucks says he had a T- shirt and movie poster hanging in his bedroom when he was a teenager.”

In the end, Steve loved the movie so much that he looked it up on the Internet to see if there were any other movies. When Tony told them there were two more, Steve got this hopeful, excited look in his eyes and there was no way Tony could refuse that, so they ended up spending the night watching all three movies and devouring three bowls of popcorn each. Honestly, there were worse ways Tony could have spent the night. Much worse. (He’d been thinking about drinking before Steve had thanked him, and he’d spent many nights in a blackout state of drunkenness before. This was so much better than that.)

And if Steve caught Tony staring every once in a while, Tony would just grin and throw some popcorn at him and make a joke about how far behind Steve was on the times, and Steve would smile and go back to the movie. And if Tony kept stealing glances even after that—well, no one could blame him if no one knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pretty much just sat down one day and was like, "You know what? I want to write about bisexual Steve and how he'd react to a pride parade and glitter and drag queens." And then I was like "Oh wait, what if Peter just kind of found the parade and was like 'okay yeah let's go I want some glitter' and has a grand time and just accepts that Papa likes boys and girls". 
> 
> And we all know that Tony wouldn't base who he sleeps with/has a relationship with on gender. Tony Stark is pansexual and no one can convince me otherwise.
> 
> Also, I threw in hints of Clint/Bruce because I found that ship recently and I actually really like it. I'm wondering if I should add more of that into the story? As one of the background ships, of course, just more hints of it and implied and whatnot. Let me know if you guys like that idea :)
> 
> I will warn you that the next chapter will have PTSD flashbacks and panic attacks. Just vague descriptions, nothing too serious, but I will have a warning at the beginning of the next chapter in case anyone wants to skip over that because I would never want to make someone uncomfortable. Also next chapter: Nat/Bucky begins!!! I'll probably have a separate mini chapter for that later, as well.


	5. Terminal Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: PTSD flashbacks and descriptions of panic attacks and nightmares. Nothing too graphic, more of a clinical description, but if it makes anyone uncomfortable I don't want to take any chances.

It was freezing.

Steve looked around and saw white everywhere. It was unnerving, and… strangely familiar.

_Steve…_

The white surrounding him turned blood red and pooled around his feet. He knelt and watched it spread until the ground was drenched in it.

_“Steve…”_

“Who’s there?” Steve stood and turned around wildly. “Show yourself.”

A shadow appeared in the distance. As it moved forward it gradually took its shape, sauntering Steve’s way until he could see its face and…

“Sharon?”

Sharon—or the thing that looked like Sharon—smiled wickedly and cupped Steve’s cheek. _“Why is it you think you can protect our son but you couldn’t save me?”_ she asked.

“I…” Steve felt like he was choking, like every breath was pulling the life from his body.

_“You couldn’t even take care of our son at first. What kind of father are you? I would have been a much better parent than you, Steve…”_

Steve was choking on the white and red, swirling around him and piercing through his body, sharp and cold as ice. God, why was this happening now? He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t see, why was this happening?

Steve gasped awake.

It was still dark outside, thick as a blanket in the room. Peter lay curled in the bed, sleeping peacefully. Steve reached out and managed to gently maneuver his son against his chest. Peter turned over and sighed in his sleep.

“JARVIS, what’s the date?” Steve whispered. A hologram popped up on the bedside table with the date and time.

“If you would like, Captain, I can show you a few video clips,” JARVIS replied, quiet as a whisper.

“Please.”

A video screen replaced the date, one from earlier that night. He and Tony were on the couch, watching movies and eating popcorn. Tony grinned on the screen and made some joke that caused Steve to choke on his popcorn.

Steve took a few deep breaths and curled Peter closer against his chest. It was the 21st century and Steve was safe in the Tower with his son and his friends. Sharon had died four years ago.

He rubbed his eyes and tried to relax into the bed. _It was only a nightmare_ , he reminded himself. Sharon wouldn’t have said those things if she were here. Steve had Peter now; he took care of Peter now, that was what mattered. Right?

“Papa?” Peter stirred and sat up. Steve shifted and watched his son rub his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Peter blinked blearily.

“I’m thirsty,” Peter whispered. Steve kissed his forehead and got out of the bed.

“I’ll go get you some water,” Steve replied, stroking Peter’s hair back from his face. His curls were getting long; Steve absently made a mental note to cut his hair back soon.

Tony was still awake in the kitchen, browsing through his tablet and muttering to himself. Steve smiled despite the lingering dread from the dream.

“You should get some sleep,” he said quietly as he opened a cabinet. Tony whirled around.

“You’re awake.” Tony closed the tablet cover and glanced down the hall. “Why are you awake?”

“Peter wanted some water,” Steve replied. He didn’t mention that he’d already been awake in a cold sweat from a nightmare featuring his dead fiancée. “You really should get some sleep, Tony. You look exhausted.”

Tony rubbed his temples and opened his tablet again. “Can’t. I’ve got the repulsor tech for the Mark VIII that needs some serious repairs, and Pep’ll be on my ass if I don’t get the blueprint designs for the new computer systems to—”

“Tony.” Steve reached out and touched the other man’s shoulder. “You’re exhausted. Get some sleep, all of that can wait until tomorrow.”

“I…” Tony looked at Steve’s hand on his arm and blinked blankly. He must be worse than Steve had thought. “I can’t…”

“If you keep this up you’re going to collapse. Tony, please.”

Tony swallowed and nodded. “Okay. Yeah, I guess I can sleep. I, uh…” He closed the tablet and stood up. Steve wrapped an arm around his waist to support him when he wobbled. Tony looked at him and blinked again. “I…”

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Steve grabbed the cup of water and managed to get Tony into the hall and in front of his bedroom without breaking anything. “Do you need any help?” he asked, nodding towards the door. Tony shook his head.

“Nope, I'm fine, really, super, I can handle it from here. You, just… go, go on.” He waved down the hall towards Steve’s room with one hand and fumbled at the doorknob with the other. “I’ll just… see you tomorrow.” With that, he stumbled in the room and was gone.

 _That was odd_ , Steve thought to himself. Tony never quite made sense to him. Sometimes he was all smiles and casual flirting, but other times he stumbled and couldn’t finish his sentences. _Maybe he’s been drinking._ Steve hoped not.

Steve gave Peter his water and rubbed his back until he fell back asleep. When he was sure that his son was sleeping soundly, he stood back up and made his way to the bathroom, hoping a hot shower would calm him down enough to sleep again.

When that didn’t work, he decided to lie in bed and listen to Peter’s breathing until long after the sun came up.

\--------------------

Steve didn’t panic. It wasn’t in his nature. When something had to be done, he rolled up his sleeves and did it, and didn’t give a thought as to what the consequences would be.

So when he started hyperventilating in the middle of battle a few weeks later, his chest tight and vision blurring, he wrote it off as exhaustion. When he started to jump at every noise, he told himself it was stress from the fight. But when a sudden wave of anxiety hit him so strong he dropped to his knees, he started to panic.

It was like flashing back to the war—and the worse part was, he couldn’t even figure out which war to flash back to. Images of Nazis mixed together with Middle Eastern villages set aflame, misty forests blended with sandy deserts. It was exhausting and terrifying, and he had no idea what was happening.

He somehow managed to get back to his feet and focus on the situation in front of him. Minions, of some sort, minions working for a scientist. It didn’t matter why they were fighting or what the villain wanted. All Steve knew was _fight, protect, overcome_. So he did.

Afterwards, he stumbled off into an alley and emptied his stomach. Gasping, he wiped his mouth and leaned his forehead against the cool brick, fighting off the panic lodged in his chest and constricting his throat. He heard screams, far off in the distance, and saw bloody soldiers lying in sand and lying in Nazi camps. He couldn’t think, couldn’t _breathe…_

“Steve? Steve!” Tony’s voice cut through the blood and pain. Steve jerked back and stared at the other man’s confused expression.

“Steve, are you okay?” Tony asked. Steve took a deep breath.

“Fine. I'm fine. Did we… did SHIELD apprehend the scientist?” Steve rubbed his eyes and blinked back towards the street. Black vans surrounded the area as agents carted the remains of the clones off to the R&D labs.

“We got him, it’s fine.” Tony carefully laid a hand on Steve’s shoulder—he tried not to flinch, he really did, but Tony must have felt it anyways because he backed off immediately. “Our job’s done, right? Time to head out. Let’s go… let’s go see what the kid’s been up to.”

Steve nodded and took a shaky breath. “Think you could give me a ride?” he asked. Tony grinned and extended a hand.

“Hop on, Capsicle.”

The rest of the team met them back at the Tower, covered in dirt and bruises as usual. Bruce picked his glasses up from the kitchen counter, his other hand holding his pants up. “Where’s Peter?” he asked.

Peter popped his head around the corner. “Hi, Papa!” he called.

Steve smiled as the last remnants of panic faded into the back of his mind. “There you are. What’re you doing back there?”

“Playing with Dummy. Watch.” Peter disappeared, and when he rounded the corner again he was hanging upside down on Dummy’s arm. Dummy swiveled his camera towards the team, beeping happily.

Tony walked in from the balcony, rolling up the sleeves on the under- armor he wore with the suit. “If you drop him I’m donating you to a community college,” he warned Dummy.

At first, Steve hadn’t been comfortable at all leaving Peter alone in the Tower. Sure, there were workers and StarkIndustries employees still in the building, but it wasn’t nearly the same. Pepper had offered to watch him when she could, but she spent half her time in Malibu, running the company. Carol had laughed and said there was no way in hell she was going all the way to the Tower to watch him. It wasn’t until Tony had literally locked Steve in the workshop with him and shown him all of JARVIS’ capabilities that he really felt safe.

“Look, he’s got a security system that’s got our DNA coding locked in,” Tony had explained. “Anyone tries to get up here without our express permission, even presses the elevator button— _zap_. An electric shock strong enough to paralyze someone for six hours rolls through the button and floor, and an alarm is sent to all our alert systems, as well as SHIELD’s. If that weren’t enough to stop whoever’s getting in, JARVIS has repulsor tech built into the walls—yes, I know, trust me when I say it’s perfectly safe—as well as 47 small- range missiles. He will turn the hallway into a war zone. And if JARVIS gets an intruder alert, he has the ability to lock whatever room Peter’s in, so there’s no way in without a code. A code that I’m only giving to Avenger teammates.”

To top all that off, Tony had given Dummy the ability to use the elevator in his workshop. Whenever an Avengers alert went out, Dummy would take the elevator to whatever floor Peter was on and could keep him company while they waited for the team to return.

“Dummy, stop!” Steve watched Dummy lift his arm with Peter still clinging to it, waving around. Peter laughed and clutched the metal tighter. “I’m gonna fall off!” Peter giggled. Dummy beeped and lifted his arm again.

Clint dropped on the couch and kicked his feet up. “Can we take a day off?” he groaned. “Call in sick tomorrow?”

“Only if you’re the one that tells Fury we’re all sick.” Natasha brought out a 24 pack of water and plopped it on the table. She sliced it open neatly and started tossing bottles to the team.

“Steve should do it. Fury likes him best,” Sam replied. He grabbed for a water bottle and glared when Bucky reached out and snatched it in front of him. Bucky shrugged and downed half the bottle.

“I’m sure Fury will give us tomorrow off. He rarely calls us in two days in a row unless it’s a real emergency.” Steve lifted Peter off Dummy and into his arms. Peter giggled and wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck.

“I’m hungry,” he whispered to Steve.

“So what do we say?” Steve replied, already heading towards the kitchen.

“Can I please have something to eat?”

“Yes you may. Would you ask the rest of the team if they’re hungry?” Steve pulled a pot down from the cabinet and set Peter on the counter.

“Papa wants to know if you want food,” Peter called.

“Please, dear god yes.” Clint’s head popped up from behind the couch, nodding vigorously.

“I’ll help you, if you want,” Bruce told Steve from the doorway. He’d changed into actual clothing again and his hair was damp from showering.

“I’d appreciate it.” Steve grabbed a box of mac and cheese from the pantry and ripped it open.

The rattling noodles in the box sent a spike of panic through his chest and he went into full battle mode. It reminded him of machine gun fire and all of a sudden he could hear it, rattling through the halls and off the ceilings. His head whipped towards Peter involuntarily and the instinct _protect_ surged into his mind. But Peter was happily petting Dummy’s camera and jabbering nonsense to the robot. He was in the Tower. Peter was safe. Everyone was safe.

“Steve?” Bruce placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder, jarring him back to his senses. He smiled and poured the noodles in the pot.

“I’m fine. Just spaced out for a second,” he reassured Bruce. He nodded, not quite looking convinced, but returned to getting meat for sandwiches from the fridge.

Steve took a deep breath and focused on where he was. He was in the Tower. He was safe. He was home.

So why the hell was his body reacting this way?

\--------------------

“Night, Uncle Bucky.”

Bucky grinned and scooped up Peter into his arms. “Goodnight, kiddo.” He kissed his cheek and set him back down. Peter ran over to Natasha next and buried into her lap.

“Night, Annasha.”

She kissed the top of his head. “Goodnight, _lapochka_.”

Bucky watched him patter down the hallway and into his bedroom. “He’s a good kid,” he said to himself. Natasha nodded and folded her legs underneath her.

“Have you noticed something wrong with Steve?” she asked suddenly. Bucky shrugged.

“Not really. Or, not any more than usual. Why do you ask?”

Natasha was silent for a moment. Bucky watched while she took out a knife and casually started filing her nails (and that was both terrifying and extremely attractive). “He’s quieter than usual,” she finally replied. “Something was off with him today. I don’t know what, but it’s something he’s clearly trying to hide.”

“Maybe his thing for Tony finally got the better of him,” Bucky joked.

Natasha gave him a disapproving glare. “I’m being serious. You’re his best friend, haven’t you noticed something off about him?”

She was right, of course. Bucky had noticed that Steve had been more subdued during the battle today, almost nervous. And he had disappeared afterwards, which Steve _never_ did. He always wanted to stick around and make sure everyone had medical attention and that the threat was neutralized or whatever. “Maybe something’s wrong with Peter?” he said, glancing back towards the hallway. If Peter were hurt or sick…

“He would tell us if something was wrong with Peter.” Natasha shook her head and sighed. “It’s something with him, something he’s afraid to tell us about.”

“Steve never tells anyone if there’s something personal going on with him. He locks it away as long as he possibly can and then it all sort of explodes at once. Whatever it is, it’s been going on for a while and we’re just now starting to see it.” Bucky tapped the arm of the couch nervously. He didn’t like when Steve pulled this shit. When they were younger, he used to pretend he wasn’t sick and would hide his coughing fits from Bucky, sometimes for weeks at a time. Once he caught pneumonia and nearly died because he refused to tell anyone for three weeks, insisting it was nothing more than a mild cold. Bucky had almost killed him for that.

“Then we need to do something about it. Let Steve know he can trust us with whatever it is he’s going through.” Natasha flipped her knife closed and stood. “We’ll start tomorrow. For now I'm going to bed.”

“Want some company?” Bucky grinned and winked casually. She tossed her hair and glided past him silently.

Bucky had already turned back to the news when he heard her speak up from the doorway. “Maybe some other time.”

Bucky smiled and leaned back. He was a patient man. He could wait.

\--------------------

Steve clutched at the sheets, gasping awake. It was dark and cold and his bed was too soft for the army and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus on his surroundings…

“Captain Rogers, it is the 23rd of August in the year 2014. You are in the Avengers Tower, formerly Stark Tower,” JARVIS spoke up in his flat (but somehow still soothing) tone. “You are in Manhattan, in New York, in the United States of America. You have a son named Peter, aged four years and six months old.”

Pictures popped up around the bed, clearly taken from the security cameras in the building. Peter playing with Dummy today, clutching onto his arm. Tony and Peter, sitting at the counter and eating mac and cheese. And a video feed of Peter’s room, showing live footage of him sleeping soundly in bed.

“Thank you, JARVIS,” Steve stammered. “I’m okay now.”

“Very good, Captain. Shall I remove the photographs?”

“Could you keep the video feed up?” he asked. “Of Peter’s room?”

“Of course.” The other holograms disappeared and the video feed enlarged, focusing on Peter’s bed. Steve lay back and took several deep breaths.

Cold panic still gripped his lungs, but he forced himself to relax into the bed. Peter was safe. He was asleep, and breathing, and everything was fine.

His last nightmare echoed and bounced around the back of his mind, Peter’s terrified screams as he was dragged under icy water while Steve was helpless to save him. _You brought this on him_ , a scratchy, whispering voice had said in his ear. _You can’t save him. You can’t protect him. You don’t deserve him. You’ll get him killed._

“JARVIS? Where is Tony right now?” he asked without thinking. Maybe if he could just talk to someone, and hear someone else’s voice, he would be okay.

“Sir is currently in his workshop,” JARVIS replied.

“Think he’d appreciate some company?”

JARVIS was silent for a moment. “I believe that sir would allow you access, if that is what you meant.”

That was a yes to him. Steve stood and the video of Peter disappeared. He forced himself to breathe again and headed towards the elevator.

Tony was elbow deep in some machine when Steve keyed in his access code. “Okay, if I can rewire this section we should have enough energy to power the back system. After that—no, Dummy, I'm not hungry, and that sandwich is three weeks old. After that, JARVIS, program yourself into the system and start the reboot system process.”

“Um, Tony?” Steve tapped on the window glass in greeting.

“Then we can—Cap?” Tony swiveled around and blinked vacantly.

“Hey,” Steve said, feeling awkward. Tony looked busy, he probably shouldn’t have come down.

“Hey.” Tony seemed to shake himself out of his stupor and jumped to his feet. “What can I do for you, Cap? Trouble sleeping? I’m pretty sure there’s still milk in the fridge, and it might even still be good. Warm that up, I’ll get JARVIS to play some lullabies, and we’re in business.”

“No, I… Sorry, I shouldn’t have come down here.” Steve made towards the door again. He felt awful about interrupting Tony; it was clear he wanted him gone right now.

“No!” Steve turned when he felt Tony’s hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that, sorry.” Tony grinned sheepishly and gestured towards the worktable. “Come on, take a seat, the doctor is in.”

“I didn’t know you had a doctorate.” Steve sat and glanced over the machine Tony was building.

“It’s more of a figure of speech.” Tony collapsed next to him and grinned. “So, what can I do for you?”

 _Make the nightmares stop._ “I just couldn’t sleep. Figured you might want some company.”

“Normally I would say something snarky and sarcastic, but company actually doesn’t sound too bad right now.” Tony rubbed his eyes and carded his fingers through his hair. It stuck up at odd angles and Steve smiled. “My vision’s starting to blur and it’s only been seven hours. I'm getting too old for this shit, seriously.”

“You do it to yourself, you know,” Steve said. He flinched as soon as the words left his mouth, but Tony just waved and shook his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you, I get it. But this needs to get done, like, now.”

“What is it?” Steve leaned forward and looked closer at the machine.

“It’s sort of an emergency generator, but it powers itself since it uses the same reactor tech as this,” Tony explained, tapping his arc reactor. “It’ll power the building in case of an emergency, like that guy last week that shut down the power grids and tried to send the city back into the Stone Age.”

“You made that in one night?” Steve asked. “That’s amazing, Tony.”

Tony grinned and tapped at a piece of the machine. “Yeah, well, I’m a pretty amazing guy.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Steve heard how that sounded and blushed a bit, ducking his head.

Tony looked stunned for a second before he grinned even wider. “Why, Captain, I do declare. You sure know how to flatter a guy.”

“I just meant…”

“Oh, I know what you meant, Cap.” Tony turned back to his machine and went back at the wires. “That’s why I keep you around, though. You stroke my ego.”

_I could stroke something else._

Wait. What?

Steve shook that image from his head—because that image was now _way_ too clear—and leaned back against the table nervously. Why the hell had he just thought that?

“So what was the nightmare this time? I'm assuming it was a nightmare, that’s what keeps me up these days.” Tony glanced over and shrugged when Steve’s expression turned to shock. “Yeah, yeah, I know, but it happens to the best of us, right? It went away for a bit, when I was with Pepper—something about sharing the bed with someone, I guess—but every once in a while they kick my ass.”

“I dreamed I watched Peter drown,” Steve blurted out. He grimaced and ducked his head.

“Wow.” Now it was Tony’s turn to look shocked. “That’s… Jesus, Cap, are you okay? That’s pretty big stuff.”

“I’m okay now. I just… I was back on the ice, and someone was holding Peter down and they threw him in and dragged him under the water. And I couldn’t save him.” Steve felt his chest clench at the memory.

Tony watched him in silence. “So how often do you have those nightmares?” he asked quietly.

Steve shrugged. “A couple of weeks ago I had a dream, about Sharon. It… wasn’t a good dream, at all. After that they’ve been getting darker, more intense. This one was the worst yet.”

“Does this by any chance relate to you puking your guts up today after the battle?” Steve flushed in embarrassment and Tony shook his head. “Relax, Steve, I’m not judging you for that. I was just worried, you know? Supersoldier and all, you’re not really supposed to get sick.”

“I couldn’t breathe,” Steve said finally. “My chest… it felt like there was a weight on it, one that I couldn’t shake off. And my vision went blurry and… I couldn’t remember where I was, for a second. And I just panicked.”

Tony made an ‘ah’ sound. “That, my Captain, is what they call a panic attack. Trust me, I know what those feel like. They suck.”

“So how do I get over them? And why are they popping up now?” Steve could feel the anger rise in his throat and forced it back down. This was Tony, there was no need for that.

Tony scratched his head with the wrench he was holding. “Mine started after Manhattan. The whole ‘one way trip into space with a nuclear missile’ thing. They were pretty bad, at first. Now I can control them better, and they don’t show up nearly as much as they used to. Used to be I couldn’t sleep or anything because my chest would get so tight that I couldn’t breathe.”

“I just wish I knew why they were here now,” Steve said miserably.

“Hey, no one’s gonna think less of you for having them.” Tony set down the wrench and twisted to face Steve. “Everyone gets them. It’s practically a job requirement for this line of work.”

“I’ve never panicked before, though. And sometimes… sometimes I remember the war, both wars, and I flash back to them and I can’t _do that_. I have to focus on here, now, or else someone will get killed, Tony.” Steve knew he was starting to sound desperate.

“So you’ve got some PTSD mixed in. Practically everyone on the team does.” Tony reached out and put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Steve, everyone has their demons. If you overcome them instead of letting them control you, you become a stronger person. You have to face your demons and fight back against them, understand?”

Steve smiled. “You sound pretty smart for a guy who dove headfirst into oncoming traffic today.”

Tony grinned back and shrugged, turning back to his work. “What can I say? I’m a man of many mysteries. Now go get some sleep, you look exhausted.”

“Look who’s talking.” Steve stood up and offered Tony his hand. “Let’s go, you too. Figure out the generator some other day.”

Tony blinked at Steve’s hand for a second before taking it and allowing himself to be hauled up. “Whatever you say, oh fearless leader.”

Steve followed Tony out to the elevator and figured that he just might get to sleep tonight after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, either next chapter or the chapter after that Steve and Tony will get together. And Nat/Bucky will probably get its own chapter coming up soon, so keep an eye out for that!
> 
> Thank you all so much for your comments and kudos! They mean so much to me. And anyone who's come to follow me on tumblr, thank you thank you THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!
> 
> A humongous, wonderful, super- special thanks to AO3 user [Dragonkittin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonkittin/pseuds/Dragonkittin) for her fantastic idea of Dummy and Peter acting like siblings and hanging out together! You can be sure to see more of that as the story progresses, because I think that is absolutely adorable :D
> 
> A quick little side note: I suffer from a nightmare disorder, so I can describe those really well. Sometimes they don't always make sense, like most dreams. But nightmares are fueled by your fears and guilt, and everything dark inside you. They take what you love and twist them, and that's exactly what Steve's nightmares did. However, I don't have anxiety or PTSD or panic attacks. I researched the effects and I know people that do suffer from the disease, but I've never experienced one myself. If my description of a panic attack is in any way wrong or you find it offensive, please, please let me know.


	6. Don't Leave Me Now

“And that’s why I’m banned from the Philadelphia Museum of Science for life.”

Steve glanced into the family room and grinned when he saw Tony huddled under a blanket with Peter. It was late, too late for Peter to be up, but Steve guessed he’d had a nightmare or something and had gone looking for a familiar face. Steve had been down in the gym, and it was sweet knowing that Tony was the boy’s second choice.

“Can you tell me another story?” Peter whispered. His head was against Tony’s collarbone and he was staring at the glow from the arc reactor. Tony shifted and slid farther down onto the sofa.

“I could tell you about the time Rhodey and I—you remember Rhodey, right?—well, when he and I were in college, in Boston, there was this huge street fair and…”

Steve crept into the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle, careful not to interrupt whatever story Tony was telling. He finished off the bottle in a few quick gulps and refilled it again before reentering the living room.

“…and that’s why the Irish Mob has it out for me,” Tony was finishing.

“That sounds completely inappropriate to tell a five year old,” Clint commented from the doorway. Tony reached one hand around out of Peter’s sight and flipped Clint off.

“Come on, Peter, it’s time for bed,” Steve said gently. Peter turned and peeked over the couch.

“Do I have to, Papa? I wanna hear more of Tony’s stories,” Peter pouted. Tony tapped Peter’s stomach playfully and stood up.

“Your pop’s right, kiddo. Time for you to hit the sack.”

“Will you tell me more stories tomorrow?” The hope in Peter’s eyes was bright enough that Steve almost imagined them sparkling.

“Sure thing. I’ll tell you about when I first made Dummy, that’s always an interesting story.” Tony scooped Peter up and draped him over his shoulder. Peter squealed with laughter and tapped Tony’s chest with his feet.

“Put me down,” he said.

“Make me, squirt.”

Steve smiled and watched them pass into the hallway. Peter looked up and waved to Clint, grinning in delight. “Night, Uncle Clint!” he called.

“See you in the morning, kid.” Clint collapsed in the armchair and sighed, leaning his head back. “So I’ve decided to never spar with Nat again,” he told Steve once the other two were gone. Steve sat on the couch and turned on the TV to the local news.

“She tear you a new one?” Steve asked.

“She’s so sexually frustrated ‘cause Bucky and her won’t just fucking sleep together and get it over with already,” Clint groaned. “It’s exhausting. I didn’t know women could get that bad. Maybe that’s why I stick with dudes.”

“I didn’t know that she and Bucky were a thing,” Steve frowned in confusion. Clint shrugged.

“It’s been a weird, complex, ‘I-like-you-but-we-work-together-and-also-you-used-to-work-for-Hydra-and-shot-me’ thing for her. Which, I don’t know why she’s so strung up on the whole shooting her thing. It’s not like she hasn’t shot any of her old partners.”

“Still, that doesn’t sound particularly healthy.”

Clint threw up his hands in exasperation. “That’s what I said at first, but she wanted to try it, but now they’re just dancing around each other like a couple of circus acrobats with no net at the bottom.” Clint lifted his head and cocked an eyebrow at Steve. “Sounds like someone else I know. Whole house is rife with sexual tension these days.”

Steve felt himself blush a bit and cursed internally. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied. “Besides, what about you and Bruce?”

Clint smirked. “Ain’t nothing repressed about that, Stevie. Speaking of which, I’ve got a hot date with a hot scientist. Maybe you should think about getting one of your own.” With that, Clint stood and sauntered out of the room.

Steve sighed and turned up the TV. He knew that he liked Tony, but they were teammates. Besides, Tony didn’t really seem to be interested in him. He was always avoiding Steve, and he would stammer and look away from him whenever they were together recently. Maybe he had said something wrong to Tony?

Tony entered the living room and took Clint’s place in the armchair. “Where’d Katniss go?” he asked.

“I assume you mean Clint, and he said something about a date. A date with Bruce, I think.”

Tony grinned and leaned back in the chair. “So he finally got off his ass and asked our good doctor, huh? ‘Bout time.”

Steve hummed in agreement. “He said something about Nat and Bucky, too. I didn’t know they were stepping out together.”

‘Stepping out’?” Steve glanced over and saw Tony trying (and failing) to choke down a laugh. “Really?”

“Whatever it is you call it these days,” Steve grumbled.

“Please don’t give me another ‘when I was your age’ lecture, I might die here in this chair if you do.” Tony chuckled and grabbed a tablet, tapping at the screen before he even had it situated on his lap. “Speaking of not dying, I have some upgrades for your armor I wanted to show you…”

“That’s the transition you’re going with?” Steve grinned.

“Shut up, I'm running on like no sleep right now. And focus, _mon capitaine_.”

Steve felt a rush in his chest hearing Tony call him ‘his’. God, he was in deep. Maybe Clint was right and he should just jump in.

Steve leaned back and let Tony ramble on about his upgrades, only half- listening while he started to formulate his scheme.

\--------------------

Something was up with Steve.

Tony hadn’t noticed it at first, but something was definitely wrong. For one thing, he was spending way too much time with Tony.

It had started about two weeks ago, when Steve had insisted on bringing lunch down for Tony. Instead, he had showed up with three sandwiches, one for Tony, one for himself, and one for Peter, who had followed Steve down so he could play with Dummy. Steve ended up spending almost two hours in the lab, watching with Tony while Peter taught Dummy to play catch and hide and seek.

After that, they came down almost every day. If Peter didn’t arrive with Steve, he would find his way down after about ten minutes, asking if he could play with Dummy or see Tony’s experiments. Which was normal, for the kid at least. But normally Steve would have just dropped in every once in a while to make sure Peter was safe and wasn’t bothering Tony. Now he actually _stayed._

Even worse, yesterday he had brought down his drawing pad. Tony hadn’t known that Steve used to be an artist at first, but a few months ago he had caught Steve drawing with Peter on the couch. Peter would describe a certain body part—head of an octopus, leg of a giraffe—and Steve would draw it to create a sort- of monster character. And he was good. Like, really good.

“Mind if I sit down here and draw Dummy?” he’d asked. “I wanted to see if I could do robots.”

Tony had just nodded, stunned, and watched while Steve situated himself on the couch, lounging casually with one foot on the armrest and his legs sprawled apart—and oh god if that didn’t inspire _so_ many dirty images in Tony’s head—and sketching the robots in the lab. He’d stayed all afternoon, almost past dinnertime.

So yeah, something was seriously wrong with Steve.

“Is everything okay?” Tony asked cautiously when Steve arrived, as usual, with sandwiches for lunch and Peter on his heels.

Steve’s nose scrunched up. “Why wouldn’t it be?” he asked. Peter scrambled by and immediately latched onto Dummy’s arm.

“I just, you know… wanted to check.” Jesus, that sounded lame. But Steve just shrugged and set a plate in front of him.

“Everything’s fine with me. Peter needs to go to the doctor soon, to get a check- up—” Tony heard Peter pretend to gag and grinned— “which reminds me, I was wondering if you’d want to go get lunch somewhere with us after his appointment tomorrow? There’s a pizza place not far from the doctor’s office.” Steve smiled hopefully, looking a little shy. Tony tried his best not to stare.

“Um… sure, yeah, sounds… fun.” This was ridiculous.

“Great! I’ll make sure to give JARVIS the address, since I know you won’t remember it.” And now that shy, hopeful smile was gone and it was just Steve’s normal grin and Tony felt like he was losing it, like maybe he was clinically insane and this was just a symptom flaring up.

Tony just blinked and watched while Steve ate his sandwich and started some story about his training with Sam that day.

He was doomed.

\--------------------

“I’ve tried everything, Carol, but he doesn’t seem interested.”

Steve was sitting in his room, lounging on the bed and glaring at the tablet in his hand. Carol had video called him to check in on Peter, and somehow the conversation had steered to Tony and Steve’s fruitless attempts to enter a relationship with him.

_“Have you tried actually asking him out?”_ Carol asked.

“Yes! I take him lunch all the time, and I spend all day down in the lab and watch him work—which is pretty amazing, he gets so into his inventions and his concentration is just so admirable—”

“ _Okay, seriously, I think I'm going to puke. Skip the lovey descriptions.”_

“I even asked him to lunch a few days ago after Peter’s doctor appointment,” Steve sighed. “And it was nice spending that time with him alone, really nice, but he just went back to his lab afterwards and I don’t know what else to do.”

_“Wait… you think those were dates?”_ Carol was grinning in that way that Steve knew meant he was about to get his ass handed to him. _“Seriously?”_

“Well… yeah, kind of. I mean, there was food, and we talked a lot. We talk all the time, really. And I took him out, that counts, right?”

_“Steve, darling, those weren’t dates if you had Peter with you. I don’t even know why you would think that they were. Dates don’t include your young son.”_

“I always have Peter with me, though. I have to take care of him.”

_“Exactly what are the other six superheroes in that Tower doing all day that one of them can’t take a few hours and babysit your kid while you romance the love of your life?”_ Carol made a sound that was suspiciously like a snort. Steve glared at her.

“I can’t ask them to do that,” he protested.

_“Have you tried asking them? Because from what you’ve told me, those Avengers love Peter. Like, adore him. I’m pretty sure they could handle the kid for a little bit. And you know he can always come stay with me.”_

“I know that, it’s just…” Steve groaned in frustration. “What if Tony is only spending time with me because of Peter? I mean, I know Tony likes him. What if he just… tolerates me?”

_“Oh my god, if this gets anymore 80’s high school romance I’m gonna start hearing Peter Gabriel blasting from a crappy boom box in the background.”_

“Was he a singer?”

_“Just look up the movie Say Anything, I don’t have time to explain that shit. Look, Tony wouldn’t just tolerate you, okay? Just… just ask the guy out, if he says no then at least you tried, right?”_

Steve rubbed his eyes and nodded. “I guess, yeah.”

_“Good. Now go get the kid and put him on, I’m done talking to you.”_

\--------------------

Tony wasn’t exactly sure how it had happened. One minute he was at some gala for the Maria Stark Foundation, schmoozing it up to the investors and wishing he was anywhere else, the next… well, he was up against a wall and a blonde chick had her tongue down his throat. Right.

She was definitely hands- on, and definitely willing. And she was pretty, sure. And really, she had come onto him. Saying no at this point seemed like a huge waste.

A part of Tony whispered that he was being stupid. He should peel her off his side and tell her that he didn’t want it and that he hoped she enjoyed the evening, then go back to the Tower and forget it ever happened. But when he thought about that, he thought about running into Steve at the Tower and having to endure another awkward, confusing conversation rife with unrequited feelings on Tony’s part, and that was just a definite no. Besides, he needed to get his mind off Steve, off of collapsing in bed with him and undressing him, gliding his hands over his arms and chest and feeling Steve tremble underneath him while Tony brought him apart…

And that was how Tony ended up in bed with her.

He was pretty sure he got her name wrong, but she didn’t seem to mind all that much. He knew it started with a C—Carrie? Cassie?—but she just giggled whenever he said her name and whispered, “Call me whatever you like, sugar.”

The next morning, Tony felt terrible. His head was pounding and his mouth was dry and the room smelled like French perfume and sweat, and he was flashing back to his younger days when he had a different person in his bed every night and never felt completely whole, no matter what.

The girl was already gone, but she’d left a note. _Thanks for a wild night. XOXO, Sherrie._ Oops. At least he’d been close.

Tony sat up with a groan and rubbed his head, thinking absently that he would kill someone for painkillers right about now. He stood up shakily and managed to make it to the bathroom without losing his stomach, so that was a plus. And hey, there was a water bottle and Advil in there, double plus. He took a quick shower while he was waiting for the medicine to kick in, and by the time he was done, he was starving.

The kitchen was surprisingly empty when Tony stumbled in. He checked the clock and saw it was almost 10:30—Jesus, he never slept in this late.

Tony started the coffee pot and sighed in relief when the smell radiated through the room. He poured a bowl of cereal and decided fuck it, he wasn’t doing anything for the rest of the day.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.” Tony jumped at the voice and turned to face Steve, who was looking anywhere but at him. Weird.

“Not like you’re not allowed in here,” Tony replied. He sat at the table and shoveled some cereal into his mouth.

“I know I just…” Steve trailed off, looking uncomfortable. Steve never looked uncomfortable around him. Double weird.

“I saw… the girl, the lady, that… um, that you were with,” Steve finally said.

“Yeah? She must’ve left pretty early. Not that I remember, honestly.” Tony shrugged. “Don’t remember much of last night, to tell you the truth. Alcohol’s a bitch sometimes.”

“Right.” Steve looked upset now, Tony wondered if it was because he’d admitted he’d been drinking. “Well, I’ve got to get to sparring with Bucky, so… see you.” And just like that, Steve was gone.

The room felt even emptier without him there. Tony sighed and finished off his cereal. Maybe he could see what Bruce was up to today. He could always distract himself with science.

\--------------------

“You’re an idiot.”

Okay, maybe distracting himself with science wasn’t a great idea. Especially since Bruce was now dating Clint and his enormous ego.

“And why is that, pray tell?” Tony muttered. He waited while JARVIS loaded up the holoscreens and tried not to look at Bruce and Clint, who were huddled together on the couch.

Clint shook his head. “Because you’re the most oblivious person I’ve ever met.”

“And we’ve been dealing with Steve, so that’s saying something,” Bruce commented. He was scribbling frantically in a notebook but paused and gave Tony a pitiful look. Clint draped an arm over Bruce’s shoulder and pulled him a little closer. Something in Tony’s chest tugged painfully.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I'm not oblivious.” Tony waved them off and went back to his holograms.

“Sure you’re not. You and Steve have been dancing around each other for months now, and then you go and put your dick into some stranger and fuck it all up,” Clint muttered. Bruce elbowed him lightly.

“I’m a grown adult, I’m allowed to fuck whomever I want, thank you. And Steve and I haven’t been dancing around each other, we’re just… friends.”

Bruce sighed and shook his head. “Like Clint said. Oblivious. Tony, you do realize that Steve actually thought you and him were dating, right?”

Tony froze. “What. No, that’s not…”

“Swear to god,” Clint said. “He came down here yesterday all excited, asked if we could watch Peter tonight. Said he wanted to take you on a ‘proper date’, one without Peter for once. According to him he’s asked you on a couple of dates before but they didn’t count because Peter was there.”

“…What?”

Clint shrugged. “Yeah. And then we saw that girl come out of your room this morning and Steve got this hurt look on his face for a second and now he’s been quiet all day.”

Tony wasn’t sure if he was having a panic attack or his heart was ripping itself out of his chest. Steve had… wanted him? Wanted to be with him? That wasn’t right, it couldn’t be right. Steve was wonderful and good and deserved more than Tony could ever give him. He would never want Tony.

Right?

“You… you really think Steve was—”

Clint rolled his eyes. “You’re kidding me, right? The guy got stars in his eyes every time you were within ten feet of him. He was one date away from naming your future adopted babies.”

Oh shit.

Tony put his head in his hands and groaned. “I didn’t know… I thought…”

“You can still make it right,” Bruce said gently. “You just have to explain to him that you didn’t know how he felt.”

“And quick, before he decides to go find a revenge fuck,” Clint added helpfully. Bruce elbowed him again.

“Steve wouldn’t do that,” Tony heard Bruce mutter to Clint. “But this _is_ gonna hurt him like hell.”

Fuck.

\--------------------

Tony decided to have his panic attack in the workshop, where at least he’d be alone. He wasn’t entirely sure what happened over the two hours he was in there, but when he finally got a hold of himself he was lying on the couch and staring at the ceiling with a blanket wrapped around his legs and Dummy beeping at him. Tony patted Dummy’s camera and sat up with a groan.

“What the hell am I going to do,” he whispered to Dummy. Dummy just leaned towards Tony and whined.

“Sir, Captain Rogers and young Peter are attempting to enter the workshop,” JARVIS said over the speakers. Tony groaned again. Fuck.

Knowing he couldn’t just lock them out, he fell back onto the couch and called up to JARVIS to grant them access. Peter came running in and jumped on the couch with Tony.

“How come you’re sleeping, Tony?” he asked. Tony smiled and ruffled Peter’s hair.

“Not sleeping, kiddo. Just working out some… equations, sure, let’s go with that. Go play with Dummy, he’s been waiting for you all day.” Peter hopped back off the couch and onto Dummy’s base, giggling while the robot wheeled them over to the other side of the room. Tony stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets, facing Steve nervously.

“So…” he started.

“I brought you something to eat,” Steve interrupted. He set down the plate he was holding, and Tony basically wanted to die. He’d gone and broken Steve’s heart and the guy was still feeding him? “I just… I have to go, soon, Bucky needs my help with something.” Steve headed for the door and paused only to glance at Peter. “I can take him with me, if…”

“No, it’s fine, really.” Tony shook his head and wandered towards the table. “He’s fine, Dummy’ll look after him.”

“Oh. Good. Then I’ll just, you know. Go.” Steve headed towards the door and was halfway out before Tony finally gritted his teeth and stepped forward.

“Steve! Wait, don’t… don’t go.” Tony knew he sounded desperate, and hated that he did, but at least it got Steve to stop in the doorway. Tony made his way towards him until he was sure Peter couldn’t hear their conversation. “I just. I wanted to explain to you what… oh, fuck it.”

Tony grabbed Steve’s collar and pressed his lips to Steve’s franticly. And oh God, it was so good. Steve was warm and his lips were so soft and then he was kissing Tony back and wrapping an arm around his waist and Tony just about lost his mind. He pulled away before he got ahead of himself—there was a child nearby, he had to remember that—and swallowed nervously.

“I didn’t know. That you, you know. Wanted to… date… me,” Tony mumbled. “I thought it was just me, that you didn’t feel the same way… I did.”

Steve blinked at him. “I thought we were dating?” he asked. “I asked you out, you know.”

“Yeah, but that was… I thought that was just as friends.” Tony still had an arm around Steve’s neck and his shirt clenched in his other fist, and he tried to step away awkwardly but Steve just tightened his arm around Tony’s waist and gently pulled him back against his chest. God, that felt good.

“You never wondered why none of the other Avengers went along?”

Wow. Tony was a moron. He groaned and bumped his head against Steve’s shoulder. “I’m a fucking idiot. That actually never crossed my mind,” he admitted. “I was still trying to wrap my head around why you were even bothering to spend time with me.”

Steve sighed fondly and Tony felt his heart flutter. “Don’t you know how I feel about you?” he murmured, brushing a thumb across Tony’s cheek.

Tony tried to grin nonchalantly and failed. “Well. I do now. Any chance you’ll forgive me and forget that last night ever happened and just accept that I'm a huge asshole?”

Steve smiled, small at first, before it stretched until it lit up his whole face. “You really didn’t know that I was trying to ask you out, did you?”

“Not a clue.”

“Then yes, I can forgive you.” Steve kissed him again, soft and sweet. “Even if you are an idiot. But no more random women, deal?” Tony nodded meekly and Steve bent his head down to press his lips to Tony’s again.

"Eww, kissing!" Peter gagged again and Dummy beeped in agreement.

Tony smiled into the kiss and decided this was a pretty good day after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a little longer! I promise I'll make up for it next chapter with shameless fluff and Stony and Peter cuteness, don't worry :) There will also be more Natasha/Bucky coming up as we go, but I'm not sure if a separate chapter would fit in at this point. So I'll just make sure to put in lots and lots of it from their point of view.


	7. Let There Be More Light

Steve felt a warm body shift against his back and lips press a kiss to his neck. “Your turn to wake the kid,” Tony murmured.

“I just woke him yesterday. And the day before that. It’s your turn,” Steve replied, not bothering to open his eyes. He felt Tony huff against his skin.

“What if I told you I had a meeting in an hour?” he tried. Steve chuckled.

“JARVIS told me your schedule last night. You don’t have anything until noon. Try again.”

“What if I gave you, like, a really fantastic blowjob tonight?”

Steve rolled on his back and peeked an eye open. “That seems like a really long time to wait.”

Tony glared at him. “I did say really fantastic, I think that counts for something, thank you. Besides, haven’t you heard that patience is a virtue?”

“Funny. You’ve never operated by that quote before.” Steve closed his eyes again and waved towards the bedroom door. “Off you go, sweetheart.”

“Using a pet name against me? Really? That’s low, Steve.”

Steve felt him move out of bed and grinned. “I only use it because it works.”

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” Tony muttered. Steve heard the door creak open and sat up once Tony was gone, rubbing his eyes and stretching.

He and Tony had been together for eight months now. After they had worked out their misunderstandings (which were hilarious in hindsight), they had sat down, told each other exactly what they wanted and where they wanted to go, and agreed to start a relationship based on that. It was pretty much perfect at this point—sure, they still argued all the time, but they always made up in the end.

And the sex was a pretty great bonus, too.

Other than that, life was as it had been before. Peter had recently started kindergarten, which was a terrifying experience in itself, so Steve had taken on a job with SHIELD as a trainer for new field agents and Tony had returned to work as chief designer for StarkIndustries. Pepper was still officially the CEO, but she spent most of her time in Malibu, so Tony was left with the business dealings for the New York office. It gave them each something to do so they weren’t sitting around without Peter to look after all day.

Steve heard tiny feet patter against the hallway floor and smiled. Knowing Tony, he would be after revenge for being forced out of bed, which meant…

“Boo! I got you, Papa!” Peter leapt onto the bed (and Steve’s legs) and giggled wildly as he climbed up to sit on Steve’s chest.

“You got me,” Steve groaned, sitting up on his elbows. Tony grinned from the doorway. “Now you have to let me up, right?”

“Nu- uh. Tony says you gotta carry me.” Peter held out his arms expectantly. Steve sighed and pushed himself up so he could lift Peter into his arms.

“What else did Tony tell you?” he asked, glaring at the other man as they walked into the hallway. Tony shrugged innocently.

“He said you have to make me breakfast. And you have to let him pick the movie tonight,” Peter replied.

“Is that all.”

“Uh huh. Plus he said you owe him something else, but he won’t tell me what ‘cause he says I'm too little.”

Steve glared at Tony again. “Did he now.”

Tony smirked and kissed Steve’s cheek. “I have no idea where he got that last one from. I would never say something like that.”

“Can I have carrots for lunch, Tony?” Peter asked as Steve plopped him into a chair at the kitchen table. Tony went to the cupboards and pulled down a Hulk lunchbox.

“That depends. Are you going to get upset at me later and say you wanted celery instead like last time?”

“No.”

“Then yes. Ham or PB& B?”

“What’s PB& B?”

“Peanut butter and banana. It’s life- changing, trust me.”

“That, please. Can I have cereal?”

Tony grabbed the cereal box and thrust it in Steve’s direction. “Feed your kid,” he said, shaking the box.

“I’m going, I’m going.” Steve took the box, poured some into a bowl, and handed it to Peter (no milk, Peter had decided he only wanted to eat dry cereal now). Leaning against the counter, he stole a carrot from the container by Tony’s arm. “By the way, it’s pretty adorable seeing you all domestic like this,” he murmured, watching the other man spread peanut butter on a slice of bread.

“Shut up and eat your carrot.”

\--------------------

“What tasteless movie are we watching this time?” Tony flopped on the couch and rubbed his eyes. He really should get a test done, it might be time for reading glasses soon. Christ, he was getting old.

“My movies are not tasteless. And it’s _City Lights_ , it’s a Charlie Chaplin movie. You’ll like him, he was funny,” Steve replied. He sat next to Tony with a little more grace and pushed a popcorn bowl into Tony’s lap. Tony sighed and curled up into Steve’s side.

“I guess he was funny. If you’re into that sort of humor,” he said nonchalantly. In truth, Tony loved that sort of humor. Charlie Chaplin was one of his favorites, but he’d never tell Steve that. If Steve knew he actually enjoyed these old movies, they’d be watching Clark Gable and Cary Grant for the rest of their lives.

“You’ll like this, trust me.” Steve flipped the movie on and lounged against the armrest, one arm thrown around Tony’s waist.

“If you say so. I still think we should watch _Transformers._ Or _Black Hawk Down_. Or anything from this century, really.”

“Just relax and watch the movie, Tony.” Steve kissed his temple and Tony really couldn’t say no to that. Eight months in a relationship (the longest Tony’s ever been in one, this was record- breaking here) and his heart still fluttered like a schoolboy whenever Steve touched him.

Every once in a while, Steve would rub his thumb against Tony’s arm or kiss his head or temple without taking his eyes off the movie, and Tony would melt a little bit more until he was basically putty in Steve’s hands. It was a marvelous feeling, really.

“Would you mind taking Peter in to school tomorrow?” Steve asked at one point. “I have a meeting with Fury in the morning and I can’t miss it.”

“Sure. Yeah, I can take him. I’m basically meeting free tomorrow, so I can pick him up, too.”

“Thanks. Oh, and we’re out of milk, so I’ll pick some up tomorrow after work, okay?”

“That’s fine.” God, this was so domestic. Tony loved it.

“Also I was thinking we should have sex tonight.”

Okay, not everything was totally domestic.

“Let’s go now then,” Tony said, sitting up eagerly. Steve grinned and pulled him back against his chest.

“After the movie, Tony.”

Tony nuzzled Steve’s neck and kissed at his jaw, mouthing his way to the crook in his neck. “What if I promised to give you one of those fantastic blowjobs I mentioned earlier?” he murmured.

“Hmm. Nope.” Steve turned his head and caught Tony’s lips in a quick kiss. “Watch the movie.”

“Fine. See if I do any of the work tonight.” Tony turned in Steve’s arms and leaned his head against his chest.

“I’m okay with that,” Steve shrugged.

“You are just a terrible, awful boyfriend.”

“Sir, there is an alert on the Avengers line,” JARVIS cut in. “Director Fury is using his emergency override code.”

_“Rogers, you and your team get your asses in gear. There’s a legion of aquatic sea monsters coming out of the Hudson River.”_

“Why, god.” Tony groaned and sat up, hitting pause for the movie.

“What kind of sea monsters are we talking about?” Steve asked, already in Cap mode (which was definitely hot, and it was _so_ nice that Tony could ogle freely at that).

_“…Fish, Captain. Giant, man-eating walking salmon.”_

Tony lost it.

By the time he’d managed to get back under control, he was heading full speed towards the harbor in his latest suit with the Quinjet close behind. “Man- eating salmon,” he muttered to himself, still grinning.

 _“This is the greatest night of my life,”_ Clint agreed over the comm. _“Who even looks at salmon and thinks ‘oh, what perfect evil minions these would make’?”_

Tony dropped onto the harbor and took a quick look around. It was quiet for now, but Tony wasn’t taking any chances. Delicious fish or not, the term ‘man- eating’ wasn’t generally used lightly.

 _“Stark, on your left!”_ Clint’s shouted warning was all Tony heard before he was hit from the side and thrown into the river. He caught a glimpse of pink scales and giant, sharpened teeth, and that was horrifying, and the next second he was under the water’s surface and cursing his own stupidity.

“Okay, so there’s a giant… nest thing, of some sort, and salmon are just crawling out—oh my god, they have human legs, this is so great—and heading for the harbor. There’s about thirty heading your way now, be on the lookout. I’m gonna see what I can do about this… nest thing.”

Two hours and about a hundred dead giant fish later, Tony emerged from the river, covered in seaweed and god only knew what else and grinning like a madman.

“That was easily the most fun I've had in years,” he laughed, clapping Thor on the shoulder as he passed. The demi- god looked like Christmas had come early, standing on a pile of fish guts and coated in slime.

The rest of the team didn’t look much better, but at least no one was gravely injured. Natasha had a bite on her arm and Clint’s pants had basically been ripped off (and that was way more Clint than Tony ever wanted to see), and Bruce was waking up and rubbing his forehead. “Why are there fish guts everywhere?” he groaned.

“The Hulk got a little overexcited. Which is good, in a weird way. At least you know that if the whole superhero thing doesn’t work out you’ve got a thrilling future in the fish gutting industry,” Clint grinned. He knelt and helped Bruce stand on his feet.

“I’m never eating salmon again,” Bucky grumbled, kicking at a fish head. “I think one of them actually screamed when I ripped its spine out, and I’ll be hearing that in my nightmares, thank you very much.”

“A couple of them definitely screamed when Thor decided to make salmon fricassee with his lightning,” Sam said.

Tony lifted his faceplate and grimaced at the slime that slid off the suit. “I vote we go back to the Tower and shower for, like, three days straight.”

“Seconded. I call hitching a ride with Thor,” Natasha spoke up. Thor grinned and offered her an arm, lifting into the air as soon as she was settled.

“Guess that means I'm stuck driving the Jet,” Clint said.

“And that means I'm hitching a ride with Sam.” Bucky grabbed Sam’s shoulder and saluted as they took off.

Tony grabbed Steve’s hand before he could speak up and followed, grinning at Clint’s muffled “Fuckers!”

“You smell like death,” Steve commented.

“You’re no spring rose either, Cap. Luckily, I’ve got a shower back home with our names on it.”

“I need to check on Peter first.”

“You need to get the stench of the river and about a hundred dead evolved salmon off you first. Unless you want Peter to be scarred for life by the smell.”

Steve grinned and tightened his grip around Tony’s neck. “Point taken, I smell awful. I just want to make sure he’s okay, since we left him alone so suddenly.”

“JARVIS, pull up a video for the kid’s room.” The faceplate flipped down again and an image appeared of Peter sleeping soundly in the top bunk of his bed. “He’s fine, he’s sound asleep. Probably didn’t even know we left.” Tony landed on the balcony of the Tower and waited while JARVIS took the suit apart. Steve pulled his cowl off and grinned at him. “Now, about that shower…”

\--------------------

Tony fell back against the pillows and sighed. “That was a really nice shower,” he murmured. Steve grinned and fell next to him, curling against Tony’s side.

“That last part wasn’t bad, huh?” he asked.

Tony turned on his side and wrapped an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “You know, everyone assumed you were some virginal saint when you came out of the ice. I'm glad that was bullshit.”

“Oh, I was definitely a virgin out of the ice.” Steve traced circles in Tony’s ribs. “But I did have a kid a few years ago, in case you forgot.”

“I was half- expecting you to blush like a preteen boy when we first started out,” Tony admitted. “You’re just so… pure.”

“Shows what you know.” Steve pressed a kiss to Tony’s lips. “But we should probably put some clothes on in case Peter comes in.”

“He’s sound asleep. Besides, I wanna find out exactly how fast that refractory period of yours really is.” Tony rolled on top of him, tracing kisses down Steve’s chest. “For science, of course.”

“Well, if it’s for science…” Steve carded his fingers gently through Tony’s hair and pulled him up for a kiss.

“It’s an experiment. A very important experiment, one that could change the world as we know it. Very, very important.”

“You’re rambling,” Steve whispered against his lips.

“I’m in bed with a man that looks like some kind of Greek Adonis and has the sex drive of a jackrabbit. I am allowed to ramble.”

“Sir, young Peter is approaching the room,” JARVIS warned. Tony bumped his head against Steve’s chest and grinned.

“Hold that thought,” he murmured before rolling over and grabbing a pair of lounge pants and a shirt. He saw Steve do the same and pulled them on just as the door creaked open.

“Papa? Tony?” Peter whispered from the doorway. Steve sat up and held out his arms. Peter ran in and hopped on the bed, burrowing into his father’s arms, and Tony melted a little at the sight.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Steve asked, smoothing Peter’s hair back.

“Uh huh. Can I stay here with you for a little bit?” Peter looked up at them with big eyes. Tony grinned and leaned back against the headboard.

“How about we find a story to read?” he asked. Peter nodded and climbed out of Steve’s lap and into Tony’s. Steve settled in next to him as Tony pulled out his tablet.

“Can we read the one you showed me about the brothers that solve mysteries?” Peter asked.

“The Hardy Boys ones? Sure, just pick whichever one you want. I’ve got tons of those.” Tony scrolled through the list a bit and waited until Peter pointed to one. He opened it up and started reading.

“‘Look, a periscope!’ Joe Hardy shouted. ‘Are you sure?’ asked his brother Frank, who was at the wheel of their motorboat…”

\--------------------

 _“Are you absolutely sure that you can handle it?”_ Steve asked for the tenth time. Tony rolled his eyes.

“Steve, you’re going to be gone for four days,” Tony replied for the tenth time. They were video conferencing that night, since Fury had decided to send Steve, Natasha, and Bucky to Russia on a Hydra hunting mission that day. “Four days. I have Bruce and Clint and Thor here to help me, but I’m pretty sure I can take care of Peter for four days.”

 _“I know, I just… I don’t want to impose you, Tony.”_ Steve looked mildly guilty over the whole prospect.

“I’ve been like an uncle to the kid ever since you two moved in. You and I have been together for a year. I can handle your child. Go fight the forces of evil, we’ll be fine.”

_“Okay. You’ll tell me if something happens to him?”_

“Steve. I will send you a picture every time the kid sneezes if I have to. Do you want me to do that? Because I will, I’ll program JARVIS to monitor Peter and take a picture—”

 _“Alright, alright, I get it,”_ Steve chuckled. _“Have fun then, okay? I’ll see you when we get back.”_

“Have fun hunting Nazis, darling mine. Be sure to bring me a souvenir from the pits of Hell.” Tony disconnected the call and went in search of Peter.

He found him in Steve’s bedroom, curled up in the middle of the bed. “What’re you doing in here, kid?” Tony asked.

“I don’t wanna go to school tomorrow,” Peter mumbled. He had his knees drawn to his chest and was staring glumly at the wall.

“What are you talking about? You love school.”

Peter shook his head. “I don’t wanna go.”

Tony rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Okay, why don’t you want to go?” he asked, sitting next to Peter’s body. He rubbed up and down the curve of the boy’s spine.

“The kids at school were mean to me.” Peter turned to face Tony and wiped at his eyes. “They called me names and pushed me down and laughed at me.”

“What? Why’d they do a thing like that?” When he’d been younger, his father had always told him that ‘boys would be boys’ whenever Tony was bullied. He’d learned to overcome the bullies with quick words and fast fists, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to teach Peter that philosophy.

“They said my glasses were stupid and I looked like a dork. And they said I was a freak ‘cause I only have one parent.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. Okay. Well, do you think you look stupid?” Might as well start with the easy part of that first.

“My glasses are stupid.” Peter tore them off his face and tossed them to the other side of the bed. “I don’t want ‘em.”

“You have to wear your glasses, Peter, you can’t see without them,” Tony replied. He leaned over and picked the glasses back up.

“They’re stupid and I hate them,” Peter said stubbornly.

Tony fell back against the bed and turned on his side to face Peter. “I like your glasses. They make you look smart.”

“No they don’t.” Peter looked about ready to cry.

“Well, what about Dr. Bruce’s glasses? He looks smart in his.”

“That’s ‘cause Dr. Bruce _is_ smart.”

“You’re smart, too. You’re already reading way ahead of everyone else and you do science with Dr. Bruce and me all the time, right?”

Peter crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t wanna wear them. Glasses are dumb.”

“Okay.” Tony sat up and gathered the boy in his arms. “I think it’s time to show you my secret new tech. You gotta close your eyes though, okay?”

Peter looked at him warily for a second, then nodded reluctantly and shut his eyes tight. Tony made his way downstairs and into the workshop quickly.

“Now, I haven’t shown many people my secret invention, so you have to keep quiet about it, okay?” Peter nodded, eyes still shut, and Tony sat on the couch and pulled a pair of reading glasses out from a drawer. He put them on, blinking to realign his eyes, and then tapped Peter’s head. “Alright, one, two, three.”

Peter opened his eyes and stared at Tony’s glasses. “You have them, too?” he gasped.

“I have them, too. Mine are special, since they help me see while I'm reading. Because I'm old and my eyes are terrible.”

Peter giggled at that. “You’re not that old.”

“Don’t flatter me, kid.” Tony shifted Peter in his arms and took out Peter’s glasses. “I just think, if the Hulk _and_ Iron Man both wear glasses, it must be an okay thing, right?”

“I guess.”

“How about tomorrow, I take you to school and we both wear our glasses?” Tony suggested. “That way everyone will know it’s cool, since Iron Man wears them, too.”

Peter took his glasses and examined them carefully. Finally he nodded and slipped his back on. “Yeah, okay.”

“And as far as the kids who said you were a freak since you only had one dad, you remind those kids that your dad is an amazing, wonderful guy who saves the world regularly, and if that weren’t enough you have four uncles and a kickass aunt and me as your family, too.”

“What does that make you, Tony?”

Tony smiled and rubbed Peter’s head. “Whatever you want me to be.”

The next morning, after Tony had walked Peter to school and made sure he had his glasses, he knelt beside the boy and ignored the other kids and parents staring at him. That’s right, Tony Stark was domestic, and he might as well own it.

“You have a good day now, okay? Remember what I told you. Own your glasses, and no one can make fun of you for them.” Peter nodded and threw his arms around Tony’s neck.

“Okay. Bye Tony. I love you.” And with that, he turned and ran towards the steps. Tony smiled and watched him for a second before straightening up and adjusting his own glasses. He couldn’t see shit since they were technically only for reading, but it had been worth it.

He watched Peter climb the steps to school and figured his life was just about perfect.

\--------------------

When Steve returned home a few days later, Tony greeted him with, “So I think we should get married.”

Steve stared at him.

Tony grinned nervously and scratched his nose. “Yeah. So that’s out there, and I have an explanation, I really do, and I know I haven’t even told you that I love you—which I do, by the way—but it’s for a good cause and why are you staring at me like that.”

Steve blinked. And stared some more.

“That’s… a little scary. Did I break you? Oh my god, I broke you haven’t I.”

Steve nodded.

Tony dragged him over to the couch and pushed his shoulders until he sat. “Coherent response, that’s good. Just take a second to process it, no rush or anything.”

“No rush,” Steve repeated.

“Words are good, keep using words. Yeah, no rush, just… you know… a thought. You wanna hear my explanation? Cause I have a really good one, honest.”

“Give… give me a second.” Steve blinked again, shook his head to clear it, and turned to Tony. “Okay. Explanation.”

“Right,” Tony turned on the couch and crossed his legs, “So I was talking to Peter the other day, and apparently some kids have been picking on him since he only has one parent. And that day, I had to go through all these files and paperwork and had to wait a really long time just to pick Peter up since I'm not a legal guardian. And I was thinking, hey, I'm a consenting adult in a committed relationship with this man. Maybe I could be a legal guardian for his son. Since, you know, Peter doesn’t consider me an uncle or anything because he never calls me ‘uncle’ like he does the others. So I went to the courts to see if that was something that could even happen, right? And apparently I can, but they said it’d be easier if you and I were married first. So then I thought, well I’m basically ruined for anyone else since I have this guy, might as well commit since I’ve never committed to anything in my life and I might as well start now. So I thought I’d ask, just kind of throw it out there, get it in the wind.”

Steve stared again.

“That really is scary, you know.” Tony snapped his fingers in front of Steve’s face a few times. “You can say no, Steve. It won’t hurt my feelings.”

“You… want to be Peter’s… other parent?” Steve managed.

Tony shrugged. “I kind of already am, really. I make him lunch and read him stories and I even gave him a bath yesterday, and if that’s not love I don’t know what is because that kid _hates_ baths.”

“And… you want to get… married.”

Tony looked at his fingers and shrugged again. “Figured I might as well ask. Like I said, I’m basically ruined for anyone else. You’re… yeah, you’re pretty much it for me.”

Steve swallowed and blinked again. Then, without thinking any further, he leaned forward and grabbed Tony’s shirt, pulling the other man into his lap and locking lips with him. Tony grabbed his shoulders and returned the sentiment eagerly.

When they finally parted, Tony leaned his forehead against Steve’s. “So… was that a yes, or a break- up kiss?”

Steve laughed and pressed another kiss to Tony’s lower lip. “That was a yes. For the marriage, and being Peter’s other dad.”

“Really?” Tony grinned and shifted against Steve’s chest, leaning back to grab a file from the coffee table. “Because I sort of already filled out the forms, all you have to do is sign them.”

“Yes, Tony.” Steve wrapped a hand around the back of Tony’s neck and pulled him back down gently. “Nothing would make me happier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ew, fluff. I love it. I figured we needed a bit more of it, just nothing but squishy feelings and happiness all around. And man- eating salmon, because why not.
> 
> The book that Tony read Peter is a Hardy Boy novel called "The Mark on the Door". It's great and the Hardy Boys are great and I love them. 
> 
> Special, wonderful thanks to AO3 user [Umbrella_ella](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Umbrella_ella/pseuds/Umbrella_ella) for her wonderfully fluffy ideas for this chapter!!!


	8. One of These Days

When Bucky was young, he spent most of his days taking care of Steve.

It was tragic, really, but the kid was so scrawny a strong breeze could knock him down and he had a list of illnesses and health issues a mile long. So when Bucky’s parents died and Steve’s mom got sick, Bucky moved in and took on odd jobs in the neighborhood. He and Steve didn’t go to school much—Steve was always sick and Bucky was always working—so when they had a few hours they’d sit together by the fire and teach each other what they knew, Steve from his books and Bucky from his street smarts. Bucky showed Steve how to gut a fish and carve figures from wood, and Steve taught Bucky how to add and subtract and what happened during the Civil War and how electricity worked.

When Steve’s mom died, they took care of each other. And when the war started, Bucky signed up because it meant more money and more money meant they got to eat. He was hoping to get domestic work, in the factories making guns and missiles. He was good with his hands, he thought it’d be good work. Instead, they shipped him out to Europe.

And of course Steve just couldn’t sit back and work in the factories or sell war bonds, no, he had to go sign up for some government experimentation that made him six inches taller and a hundred pounds heavier and all of a sudden _Steve_ was taking care of _him._

When Bucky fell, the only thing he remembered was thinking _oh god I’ve failed and now I can’t take care of Steve._

And then he’d woken up and his arm was gone and a doctor was leaning over him saying, “Son, this is going to hurt like hell.” They’d stuck him full of needles and drugs and ripped at his side and when he’d finally come to there was a metal monstrosity where his arm used to be and he couldn’t even remember his own name.

The next time Bucky woke up, it was the 21st century and everything was new and different. Interracial couples could get married. Cheese was now processed. Automobiles were so fast it made his head spin.

It was a wonderful new world and Bucky never felt more lost.

Some way or another, he wound up with Steve again, because he seemed to naturally gravitate towards Steve no matter what century it was. When they sat him down and told him what he’d done, all the people he’d killed, he wanted to die.

So he tried.

But of course Steve just couldn’t let him be, so he wound up sharing an apartment with Steve all over again. And then Peter came, and the Avengers, and everything sort of whirled around him until he could hardly breathe.

He found his center of gravity the day he met Natasha.

Natasha was red—red hair, red smile, red ledger. From a distance, she was cold and unfeeling, but then Bucky got close and she started slipping a bit. He learned that she put a ridiculous amount of sugar in her coffee, and that she had a cold, calculating wit that was hilarious as long as you paid attention. He learned that she liked fantasy books with dragons and would live on the beach in a heartbeat and loved those sappy romantic comedy movies that made him want to gag but always made her smile.

So he made her coffee every single morning and poured an obscene amount of sugar in her special pink rose covered mug, and paid attention every time she opened her mouth and laughed at all her jokes, and bought her a dozen books with dragons on the cover, and bought a thousand little pink umbrellas that he always put in her drinks (even if it was just lemonade) and goddamnit he _watched_ those sappy movies and willed himself to enjoy them, no matter how bad it got.

He worked for months. He _wooed_ her. Because she was violent and graceful and calculating, and also because she had bedhead in the mornings and one time she tripped over her own two feet and went sprawling on the rug and she ate chocolate like she breathed air. She was natural. She was real. She was human. She deserved everything.

So Bucky took care of her.

And it took a long time, so long that Bucky almost gave up several times, but one day when he poured her morning coffee complete with half a cup of sugar, she took it and kissed his cheek all in one smooth motion. Bucky could’ve melted into a puddle right there, but he’d just grinned and drank his own coffee.

A few months after that they were sparring and she sent him tumbling to the floor and he hooked a leg around her calf and brought her down with him, and they were rolling on the ground and somehow she ended up on top, pinning his arms and grinning while she whispered, “I win, jackass.” And he wasn’t really thinking, then, so he leaned up and pecked her lips quickly and grinned back, and expected her to slap him or put a gun to his temple. But she just rolled her eyes and stood up smoothly, demanding another round, and that was it.

One night, Natasha was watching one of her movies (why in God’s name were those people kissing in the rain? They might catch a cold, it was totally impractical, there had to have been a building nearby or something), Bucky casually sat next to her on the couch and reached an arm around her side of the couch, praying that she didn’t reach back and snap it off. But she rolled her eyes again and leaned back against his arm and passed him the popcorn bowl.

After a certain battle involving some kind of large, robotic raccoons that ate electrical cords and pooped small bombs—literally, small bombs just came out of there, it was like something out of a hilarious nightmare—he and Natasha ended up in an elevator together covered in bruises and cuts and suffering smoke inhalation, and he just leaned over and kissed her hair and then she grabbed the collar of his suit and pulled him in for a real kiss, one that lasted and was so warm and safe and Bucky never wanted it to end. So when he pulled away, he bumped his forehead against hers and said, “How’s about we go dancing?”

Natasha laughed, and laughed, and laughed, and Bucky never wanted that laugh to end. And then she dragged him off the elevator and into her room and he never wanted that to end, either.

Every once in a while one of the Avengers would make a joke about them, some snide comment about sexual tension or some such thing. Clint would smirk and say, “Ten bucks says she’s on top” or Tony would roll his eyes when they smiled a certain way at each other and shout, “Oh just fuck it out already, for Christ’s sakes” but Bucky didn’t care because Natasha was worth so much more than just a quick roll in bed and an awkward morning after.

One day, when they were watching a movie that involved teens in space and their romance, Natasha glanced at him over her mug of cocoa and said, “You should ask me to dinner sometime.”

So Bucky asked her to dinner and took her to an Italian joint in Brooklyn that had the most amazing garlic bread Bucky had ever tasted, and he brought her a white flower and held her hand and opened the door for her. And then they went on another date and she held the door for him and paid for the meal and tucked a yellow flower in his shirt pocket, and it just sort of went back and forth like that. Before he knew it they’d been dating for two years and sleeping in the same room and sometimes Natasha even wore his t- shirts at the breakfast table. Bucky even got to hold her hand around the rest of the team sometimes. It was magnificent.

One time, Peter tugged on his sleeve and asked, “Are you and Annasha married?” Bucky just shrugged and tossed the boy up into his arms.

“Do you think people have to be married to be in love?” he replied.

“Nu uh. Cause Papa and Tony are in love and they’re not married, and sometimes they even kiss and it’s yucky.” Peter’s face scrunched up in apparent disgust. Bucky laughed.

“That’s about what Annasha and I do,” he admitted. Peter nodded and scratched his nose.

“Are you guys gonna be kissin’ in public, like Papa and Tony and Uncle Clint and Dr. Bruce?”

“Probably.”

“Gross.”

“Agreed,” Natasha chimed in from the doorway. She walked over and kissed Peter on his cheek, then kissed Bucky on his and walked back out of the kitchen. Peter immediately wiped both their cheeks with his sleeve.

“Don’t wanna catch cooties,” he whispered when Bucky cocked an eyebrow at him. Bucky grinned and helped the boy finish cleaning his cheek.

That night, when he and Natasha were lying in bed, he wrapped his arm around her waist—careful to keep a layer of sheets between them so the cold metal didn’t chill her. “Can we keep doing this, whatever it is, forever?” he asked quietly. She smiled without opening her eyes.

“Fine.”

And Bucky never felt warmer than that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKERS.
> 
> Just when you thought I wouldn't add a Nat/Bucky chapter, I buckled down and said "why the hell not" and fucking did it. Go me. It's a short one, but it's something. I was actually pretty excited to write this, because I wanted to show Natasha in a new light. I realize that sometimes she's written as this cold, unfeeling assassin that brings death and has no emotions. And that's not true. Sure, she's an assassin, but she's also a human. She feels things and does things that only humans can do, and that's what makes her such a well- rounded and dynamic character and I love her. And you can bet your ass that Bucky would adore her with every ounce of his being when they got involved.
> 
> UPDATE: I changed the title for this chapter because I'm using the song title "Signs of Life" for another story I'm coming out with soon.
> 
> Next chapter is an overwhelming amount of fluff as we walk hand in hand down the aisle of Tony and Steve's wedding. Pull out the Kleenex, kiddos. It's gonna get messy.


	9. Remember a Day

Tony curled his feet underneath him and rested his elbows on his knees. “So you’re, like, completely sure you want to marry me?”

Steve glanced up from where he was kneeling by the tub. “Tony, we’re getting married tomorrow,” he replied. “It’s a little late to be asking that, don’t you think?”

“I just. You know. Wanted to be sure.” Tony passed him the shampoo and watched as he scrubbed Peter’s head, the boy wincing and squirming away as he did.

“You’re not getting cold feet, are you?” Steve asked, tossing a grin over his shoulder while he washed the soap from Peter’s hair.

“What? No, definitely not. That’s ridiculous, I was the one that asked you.” Tony shrugged and leaned his elbow against the edge of the tub. “Just making sure. Being stuck with me for the rest of your life isn’t exactly appealing to most people.”

“Lucky I'm not most people.”

“Tony can borrow my socks,” Peter chimed in. Tony cocked an eyebrow at him.

“You’re gonna have to explain that line of logic a bit more, kiddo,” he said.

“If your feet are cold. My socks are really warm.”

Steve smiled and kissed Peter’s forehead. “Tony won’t fit in your socks. But he’ll get some of his own, and warm his feet right up. Won’t you, Tony?” He looked at Tony meaningfully.

“Yep, socks, I'm going.” Tony went to the bedroom— _their_ bedroom, the bedroom he and Steve were going to share for the rest of their lives—and pulled on a pair of socks, because otherwise Peter would insist on giving Tony a pair of his own and making sure his feet were warm.

It wasn’t that Tony was freaking out. It was just that he was an arrogant, narcissistic asshole who couldn’t keep a date or a schedule and blew up his lab regularly, and what if Steve found that out and decided that he didn’t want to be with Tony for the rest of his life after all and divorced him? What if he took Peter and Tony couldn’t see him anymore? Oh god, that was a terrifying, sickening thought and it made Tony’s heart clench painfully. So maybe he was freaking out a little bit.

“Tony! Come back, you gotta see my soap snowman!” Peter giggled.

Steve stood and passed Tony in the doorway. “I have to go help Natasha with some last minute things,” he said. “Can you finish giving him a bath?”

“Sure, I can do that.” Tony forced a smile for Peter. “Hey, that’s a great… soap- man? Whatever you want to call it, it’s pretty neat.” Steve caught his hand before Tony could reenter the bathroom.

“I love you, you know,” he said sincerely. Tony looked up at him and nodded. “I mean it, Tony. More than you’ll ever know. I'm not backing out.”

“Me neither. So you’re stuck with me officially as of tomorrow,” Tony replied. “So… good luck with that.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Steve kissed his cheek and left the room, leaving Tony with a warm feeling in his chest and a squirming, soapy child.

Tony groaned as he took Steve’s place by the tub. “I’m getting too old to do this,” he told Peter seriously. “Soon I won’t be able to give you a bath anymore.”

Peter’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “But you have to give me baths!” he protested. “Otherwise Papa’ll ask Uncle Clint do it and he gets soap in my eyes.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I guess my knees can hold out for a few more years.”

“Good.” Peter leaned over the tub and patted Tony’s knees. “Stay, knees.”

Tony grinned and kissed the top of Peter’s head.

After managing to get Peter totally clean and wrapping him in the biggest towel they could find, Tony carried him into his bedroom to get him dressed for bed. “What pajamas do you wanna wear?” he asked.

“The red shirt. And the Hulk pants.”

Tony pulled out the red MIT shirt and smiled. “You know, it’s a really good thing I was so small in college, or you’d be swimming in these shirts. Where do you even keep finding them?”

“In the trunk in your closet,” Peter replied, tugging the shirt on backwards. Tony helped him adjust it and pulled on his pajama pants. The shirt fell to Peter’s knees and looked like a long sleeved dress on him, but Peter always insisted on a pair of Avengers themed pants, as well.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to go prying in people’s stuff?”

“I can go in your stuff, though, ‘cause you and Papa live together and he’s my Papa.” He sounded like that made perfect sense to him, so Tony just went with it because there was really no arguing with the kid. Besides, he did look pretty adorable in the MIT shirts.

“Can you read me some stories tonight?” Peter asked after Tony helped him brush his teeth.

“Sure thing. You want some Dr. Seuss tonight?”

“Yeah. The turtle one.”

“Alright, come on, the book’s in our room.”

When Steve went to bed that night, he found Tony and Peter curled up on their bed, fast asleep with a book between them.

\--------------------

The next morning, Tony woke up to Peter’s incessant tapping on his arc reactor. “Hey, Peter, what’re you doin’ up so early?”

“Papa woke me and told me to wake you up.”

“Yeah? Why’d he do that?” Tony sat up on his elbows and rubbed his eyes.

“’Cause you gotta get your suit on. Hurry up, I'm hungry.”

“Suit? What suit is… oh, right. Wedding.” Tony shot up and swept Peter into his arms. Peter giggled and wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck. “Let’s go get something to eat first, kiddo. How about chocolate pancakes?”

“Yeah. With orange juice.”

“Of course with orange juice. Where is your pop, anyways?”

“He’s downstairs getting dressed and tryin’ to get Uncle Clint to wear his suit.”

“Something tells me that’ll take a few hours. Guess it’s just you and me for breakfast.”

Pepper stormed in just as Tony was flipping the last pancakes. Peter was already digging in, giggling as he covered his face in chocolate and whipped cream (a special treat, since that was really the only way to get Peter in his suit). “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Tony leaned against the counter and stuck his fork in a pancake. “I’m just guessing here, but maybe… 9:30?” he replied, glancing at the clock.

“It’s four hours until you’re getting married and you’re still in pajamas and just now eating breakfast!” Pepper looked like she was ready to explode from stress.

“You should take a seat, kick your feet up, Pep.”

“Tony. Do you have any idea how much actually goes into planning a wedding?”

“Pepper, it’s a small ceremony with twenty guests in the conference room of the Tower.”

“There’s still a lot to do! Seats to set up, the cake is being delivered soon, Clint is acting like more of a child than Peter. And you. Aren’t. Dressed.”

Tony helped Peter cut up another pancake and sighed. “I’ve worn a suit almost every day since I was seventeen. Do you really think that I can’t get into one in less than an hour? I’ve literally changed into one in the backseat of a car at 4 am twenty minutes before I met the French Prime Minister.”

“You still have to get Peter dressed,” Pepper insisted.

“I can do that in three hours, thank you very much. Besides, where is Steve in all of this? I feel like there should be some father- son bonding in getting ready for a wedding.”

“Clint is refusing to wear a tie. Refusing. He’s practically throwing a fit over it. Steve is already dealing with one child.”

“Touché.”

Peter tugged on Pepper’s dress and offered her a piece of his pancake. “Want one, Aunt Pep?”

“I…” Tony raised his eyebrows at her meaningfully and she sighed. “I would love one, darling.” Pepper bit into the pancake delicately and glared when Tony smirked. “Thank you very much.”

“Alright, little man, what do you say we get you all dolled up?” Tony pushed off the counter and helped Peter down from his seat.

“Can I wear the purple tie?” Peter asked.

“Of course you can wear the purple tie.”

“And my orange socks?”

“…You know what, why not.”

It took them longer than expected—mainly because Peter kept changing his mind about what tie and sock color combination he wanted (they settled with pink socks and a blue tie)—but both were finally dressed in time to run to the elevator, laughing the whole way, and rush into the conference room just as Clint was asking, “Where the hell is the bride?”

“You’re so funny, Clint, you really are.” Tony plopped Peter in a chair in the front row of the seats Natasha and Bucky had helped set up and stood next to Steve, flashing an apologetic look.

“Glad you decided to show up,” Steve whispered. “I was starting to think you’d found another gorgeous blonde and run off with them.”

“There’s only one gorgeous blonde for me. Besides, the important thing is that we’re here and Peter looks fabulous in his mismatched tie and socks,” Tony replied with a smirk. “Now shut up and marry me.”

Clint stood in between them—because Clint was an ordained minister and that was just _hysterical_ —and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road. I’ll make this quick because with this team’s luck there’s probably going to be an alien invasion at any moment and also because that cake upstairs looked delicious. Steve, do you promise to take this mess of a man and transform him into something vaguely representing a husband?”

Steve grinned. “I do.”

“Tony, do you promise to accept that fact that Steve is probably going to turn you into a wholesome, domestic shell of your former self?”

Tony bit back a groan. “This is a terrible vow exchange, do you realize that. And I do.”

“By the power vested in me by the state of New York and a half- hour online course, I now pronounce you married. Good luck, and kiss.” Clint crumpled the paper up and threw it over his shoulder. “Let’s get some cake.”

“You are a horrible, awful minister,” Tony replied, turning to glare at him. He stumbled when Steve grabbed his hand and pulled him against his chest. “This was a terrible idea, we should have never let Clint do this,” he muttered.

“Whatever you say, husband dear,” Steve replied. Tony grinned and leaned up to kiss his husband for the first time. Steve wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled Tony in further, smiling against his lips.

They ended up pulling apart when Peter tugged on Steve’s sleeve insistently. “Uncle Clint never asked for the rings,” he said.

“Awful minister,” Tony repeated.

“Why don’t you give us the rings now?” Steve lifted Peter off the chair and into his arms. Peter pulled the box out from his jacket pocket and handed it to Tony expectantly.

The rings were simple gold bands, with a name neatly scrawled on the inside of each. Tony slipped the one with his name on it on Steve’s finger, and Steve did the same for him. And that was that. They were married.

They took the reception back upstairs in the penthouse, and sliced the cake and did that adorable mushy thing where they gave each other a bite from their forks, and then the rest of the night was spent making sure that Clint or Peter didn’t eat more than three pieces of cake and watching bad romantic wedding movies that Natasha insisted on putting on.

It was the greatest night of Tony’s life.

\--------------------

Peter climbed into Steve’s lap, jacket gone, buttons undone, sleeves rolled up and tie askew. “Can I ask him now?” he whispered. Steve smiled and wrapped an arm around the boy’s chest.

“In a bit, okay?” he replied. “He’s talking to Rhodey right now.”

Peter was practically thrumming with energy from the day’s events. He waited all of thirty seconds before jumping down off Steve’s lap and running for Tony. Steve leaned back and watched them with a smile while Tony leaned down without taking his eyes off Rhodey and swept Peter up into his arms. Peter rested his head on Tony’s shoulder and watched them intently while they continued their discussion.

If someone had told Steve that he’d be a married man, he’d have assumed he’d be with Sharon, or someone like her. Someone he would consider himself ideal to be with, in a quietly domestic life of matched content. He never would have pictured Tony, with his wild ideas and smart mouth, who was Steve’s opposite in every way and somehow managed to complete Steve in ways he’d never even dreamed of.

Wonderful Tony, who was looking at Peter now with adoring eyes while he finished talking to Rhodey and moved towards the living room.

Peter tugged Tony’s arm and pointed to the kitchen instead, so Tony shot a wink and a grin at Steve and followed the boy’s direction. Steve watched them disappear before returning to the team conversation on which bridesmaid gown in _27 Dresses_ was the most hideous.

Tony leaned against the counter and shifted Peter in his arms. “So what was so important that you had to ask me?” he asked. Peter scrunched his nose a bit, pushed his glasses up and played with Tony’s tie.

“Somethin’ important,” he mumbled, eyes firmly on the glow from the reactor.

“You can ask me, kid, I promise I won’t bite,” Tony grinned. Peter kept playing with his tie, but managed to look Tony in the eye.

“You and Papa… is married now,” Peter started.

“ _Are_ married, now.”

“Yeah. So you’re gonna be around all the time. Forever. Right?”

Tony chuckled. “That’s the plan, yeah.”

“I was hoping… I was wondering…” Peter tugged Tony’s tie a bit. “If you were gonna be my other papa.”

Tony blinked a bit, planning on sufficiently panicking, before he remembered that that was exactly why he’d asked Steve to marry him in the first place—so he could help with Peter and be another parent for him.

“Yeah, kid, I guess I am. You’ll have to find another name for me though, it’ll be confusing with two papas, don’t you think?”

Peter looked up at him again with eyes as bright as the sun. “Really?”

Tony smiled and kissed his forehead. “You bet.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Peter flung his arms around Tony’s neck and kissed his cheek, laughing while he did. Tony swung him around a bit and shifted him in his arms. “Can I call you Daddy now?”

“Whatever you want,” Tony replied honestly. The kid already had him wrapped around his finger—he could have asked to call Tony ‘Mega-man’ or something and Tony probably would have said yes.

“I’m gonna call you Daddy,” Peter nodded decisively and hugged Tony’s neck again. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, Peter.”

When Steve looked up, Tony was in the living room again, murmuring quietly to Peter and smiling while the boy played with his tie. He caught Steve’s glance and smiled, small and full of all the joy and hope in the world. Steve returned the smile and leaned back against the couch, figuring this was the greatest day of his life.

\--------------------

In the end, there wasn’t an alien invasion.

There was an insect invasion.

The alert beeped over the intercoms of the Tower just as Natasha was starting  _The Proposal_. JARVIS kindly paused the movie and announced, “Sir, there appears to be an infestation of insects.”

“We’re not exterminators, JARVIS, call someone else,” Tony replied.

“The insects are not in the Tower or any other small residential area, sir.”

“Well, where are they?” Clint asked.

“For the most part, sir, Cleveland.”

“Great.” Tony stood up with a groan and carefully placed Peter on the couch. “You had to go and jinx us with that wedding speech, Clint.”

“I’ll stay here with Peter,” Bruce offered. “Something tells me the Hulk wouldn’t be so great in this situation. We saw what happened with the frogs.”

Bucky grimaced and nodded. “That was pretty disgusting.”

Tony pulled off his tie and pressed a kiss to Steve’s lower lip. “Meet you on the balcony in ten,” he said, running for the elevator. Steve made his way to the bedroom and changed quickly, pulling his gloves on as he reentered the family room.

“You be good for Dr. Bruce, okay?” he told Peter. Peter nodded and kissed Steve’s nose. Steve smoothed back his son's hair. “Bedtime is still 8:30, but we should be back before then anyways. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Tony met him on the balcony and wrapped a metal arm around him, shooting up before Steve was even settled. “Why is this our lives now?” he asked as they flew. “We can’t have one normal day to get married without some villain trying to attack some city because of some personal vendetta.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Steve smiled. “Drop me here?”

“Forget it, I'm not dropping my husband from 3,000 feet into Cleveland fucking Ohio.”

“There are plenty of buildings, Tony, I won’t hit the ground—”

“I said forget it. I'm putting us down in the center, the others’ll meet us there.”

“That is a lot of bugs.”

In the end, they managed to find the villain—some punk teenage girl who’d developed the technology to control a hoard of bugs, and wasn’t that so lovely—and take down her device within the hour. Aside from being covered in bug guts and slightly banged up from when the girl had tried to set off a homemade bomb—really, it seemed excessive considering how she was just angry over a bad break- up—the team came out unscathed and exhausted.

Tony and Steve landed back at the Tower first, and Steve immediately headed in to clean up. Tony dismantled the suit and stretched, wincing when his strained shoulder protested. Peter came running out and Tony congratulated himself again for having put railings on the balcony once Peter and Steve had first moved in.

“Did you beat ‘em?” he asked, swinging into Tony’s arms.

“We always do,” Tony replied. “Wanna get some more cake?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on. Don’t tell your pops.”

He cut a slice for him and Peter to share and collapsed on the couch with the boy in his lap. The rest of the team appeared a moment later, grimy and covered in guts. “You guys look disgusting,” Bruce commented.

“Lucky for Mr. Perfect over there he’s got the damn metal suit. Nothing for him to clean up,” Bucky grumbled.

“Don’t be petty, Barnes, it’s my wedding day,” Tony shot back. Peter nodded in agreement, cheeks full of cake.

\--------------------

“Come here, husband mine.”

Steve rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist. “Are you going to be sentimental like this for the rest of our lives?”

“Count on it, babe.” Tony grinned and leaned up to kiss him, slow and so sweet. “Now, about that wedding night thing…”

Steve grinned and picked Tony up, bridal style and everything, and carried him to the bed.

“Why am I the bride?” Tony grumbled. “I’m not even that much shorter than you, I have a beard for God’s sakes, and somehow _I’m_ the bride.”

“You want to try carrying me?” Steve cocked an eyebrow and tossed Tony to the bed. He bounced and leaned up on his elbows, grinning wickedly.

“Hell no. That is seriously so hot, you know, that you can just pick me up like that—”

“Then quit complaining and enjoy it, _babe_.”

Tony pulled Steve down by his collar and kissed him, licking his way into Steve’s mouth with a soft moan. He pulled Steve onto the bed and on his back, straddling his hips and laughing when Steve clenched at his thighs.

“Apparently I'm not the only one who enjoys a little man- handling, huh?” he murmured, pulling off Steve’s shirt and then his own.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Steve breathed.

Tony did, laughing when Steve pulled him back underneath and rolled on top again. Steve managed to pull off their pants without breaking contact with Tony’s lips, and Tony groaned when Steve’s hand palmed at his now aching dick.

“Are you gonna keep teasing me, husband darling?” Tony muttered.

Steve smiled and kissed him again. “For the rest of our lives.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eww. Sex. But yay, happily ever afters!
> 
> So technically, yeah, this is the end of this fic. Sad but true. BUT you can check out some of my other fics, most of those are going to be Superfamily. I'll also be adding some sequel fics for this one (including an amazing prompt idea from Lucydolly22 that I'm incredibly excited to write!!). 
> 
> The next fic I'm working on is a time travel fic based on a prompt by Hannahfltx, called The War Was In Color. After that I'll be finishing up some other prompt requests, so if you've sent me one and I haven't responded yet or written one for you, I promise I have them all saved and I'm working on them as we speak!!!! I also have some ideas of my own, one of which is a High School/College AU that I think will be a lot of fun :D

**Author's Note:**

> Got an idea for a fic? A prompt you'd like to see? Either leave a comment on this chapter OR go to my [tumblr](http://halfway-punk-rock.tumblr.com/) and leave an ask for me! I'd love to hear them!!!
> 
> All chapter titles (including the fic title itself) are taken from Pink Floyd songs. I love Pink Floyd. They're a blend of dissonant music, possibly borderline- psychotic lyrics, and British people, leaving the listener feeling unnerved and yet still full of contentment. Sort of. It's hard to explain, but it's a classic rock band and you should give them a listen sometime, if you're in to that thing. Nevertheless, I am not affiliated with Pink Floyd in any way.


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